


As You Shook in the Middle of the Night

by TamscendingGender



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Autistic Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Canon-Typical Violence, Good Parent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, I Call It Slowburn And Yet It Takes Like Five Chapters To Burn, Jaskier | Dandelion Has ADHD, Let Ciri Say Fuck, M/M, No One Is Neurotypical Because I Say So, canon compliant sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 56,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23669500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TamscendingGender/pseuds/TamscendingGender
Summary: Geralt Riviiowski and Jaskier Pankratz have been best friends and roommates for just about twenty years, despite their many differences. They've been through several moves, two cats, Jaskier's various inadvisable adventures, and a year of not speaking to each other. What they've never had to do is look after a twelve-year-old girl, but when Ciri Rhiannon shows up outside of their apartment one rainy night, they end up doing just that. It would be hard enough navigating the pitfalls of parenthood, but Ciri also happens to be the princess of Cintra and on the run from Nilfgaard, who want to finish their invasion of her country by capturing the princess and disposing of her threat to their control of Cintra. Oh, and Geralt is trying to figure out how to confess his feelings to Jaskier. Will they keep Ciri safe from the Nilfgaardian threat? Will Geralt pull himself together? Will Jaskier and Yen ever convince Geralt to stop going for runs in inclement weather? The mysteries never end.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 48
Kudos: 242





	1. We do each other's laundry in our hearts sometimes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier prepares for his performance. Geralt contemplates feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hail and well met! This fic is going to be updating every Wednesday, probably in the mornings EST. I'm taking elements mainly from the show, but with a sprinkling of book details because why not. Also, you might have figured this out, but all of my titles are coming from The Amazing Devil's absolutely fantastic discography. The work title is from "Not Yet/Love Run (Reprise)", and this chapter's title comes from "Pruning Shears". Also also, quick note, I'm basing the way Geralt and Jask's various neurodivergences present entirely off of my own experience of having the most fun combination of ADHD/autism!

It was Saturday morning, and the rain outside pounded against the apartment windows, providing an interesting backdrop to the chords Jaskier  Pankratz was picking out on his guitar. He was tucked into the corner of a worn couch that Geralt had found on the side of the road a few years ago, and despite a couple of incidents–none of which had been his fault, despite what Geralt said–resulting in it becoming a lot saggier than it had been years ago, it still held up well. He was balancing a notebook on his knees and would occasionally pause his playing to scribble something down on the paper. Roach, a very large, brown striped cat, was sitting on his feet, her feet tucked neatly underneath her and a contented expression on her face. 

“But what rhymes with fishmonger?” he muttered, chewing on the end of the pencil and drumming his other hand against his guitar. “Dammit.” With a quiet grumble, he set the guitar down carefully on the couch and, dislodging Roach, padded across the living room to pick his phone up where it lay half under a horrendous chintz armchair. He tapped it open and sat down on the rug, typing in a search term and frowning at the results. “Konger? That’s not a word. Come on, RhymeZone, get with the program. And that’s just the same word but divided into two. Mmm...warmonger…” There was the rattle of keys at the door, and a tall man wearing running shorts and a black t-shirt walked in, his shoes squelching faintly as he stepped out of the way of the door. He was soaked through, and the strands of white hair that had escaped from his bun were clinging to his face. 

“It’s wet out there.” he said unhelpfully, bending down to wrestle with his soggy shoelaces.

“I told you, you really shouldn’t go running in weather like this.” Jaskier chided, frowning at his roommate. “But you never do listen, do you?” Geralt frowned at him and padded into the kitchen, leaving puddles where he stepped. He tossed his shoes and socks into the dryer and disappeared down the hall into the bathroom. After a pause, the shower sputtered to life. “I should write something about Geralt and his obsession with running in the rain.” Jaskier told the air. “Geralt  Riviiowski....he was a’running-ski...no, that’s stupid. I’ll finish what I’m writing now and think of something.  _ The Ballad of My Stupid Roommate Who Will Get Sick One Day Because He Runs No Matter What. _ It’ll be a chart topper.” He wrinkled his nose, then shoved his phone back under the chair and returned to his guitar. “Oh fishmonger, oh fishmonger, what does your daughter want?”

“Probably to fuck.” Geralt had returned from the shower and had neglected to put pants or a shirt on. Jaskier pointedly did  _ not _ stare at his ass, but it took all of his willpower. “That’s what all your other songs are about.” 

“Not all of them!” Jaskier squeaked indignantly. “I have songs about unrequited love, and I wrote a song about you.” He had written more than just the one song about Geralt, but his friend didn’t need to know that. He reached down to pick the cat up, and she purred and rubbed her face all over his stubbled chin. Geralt gave the cat a kiss and dropped her back down onto the couch before wandering over to the dryer.

“Hmm.” He fiddled with the dryer’s dials, then came over to stare over Jaskier’s shoulder. “Hunger rhymes with fishmonger, in a way. I don’t think warmonger is going to make a good song for the bar.” 

“It could! I am an artistic genius.” Jaskier said. 

“Hmm.” 

“Oh, fuck you Geralt.” Jaskier aimed a flailing slap at his friend, but the other man easily avoided his efforts and padded away to his bedroom. This time, Jaskier could not stop himself. “Damn you, you beautifully buff man, you.” he muttered, and returned to his songwriting. He had a gig that night, and he was hoping to have a new song for it. “Oh, fishmonger...hunger... _ come quell your daughter’s hunger _ .” He giggled to himself and began scribbling madly in his notebook. By the time Geralt had emerged, dressed in jeans and a red flannel that Jaskier ached to steal, he had put together a skeleton of a song and was running through the chords. 

“Why are you writing a song about a fishmonger for a pub gig?” Geralt asked, sitting in the armchair and crossing one of his legs across his knee. “Seems like a ren faire song.” Roach hopped down off of the couch and claimed her spot on Geralt’s lap. 

“Well, the faire isn’t for a couple months, and I thought it would be interesting to try something…” Jaskier waved his hand around in the air, as if that would help him find the right word, “...funky.” 

“Funky.” Geralt repeated. 

“You know what I mean.” Jasker screwed up his face. “I can’t think of more lyrics. How many more ways can you cheekily talk about a woman wanting to fuck you? I think I’m just going to put some sort of...monosyllable.  _ The fishmonger’s daughter...la...hmm _ ...no. Ba? That sounds like a sheep...but I kind of like it.  _ The fishmonger’s daughter, ba, ba, _ yes!” He scribbled frantically. “This will be  _ so _ good. The next…” He searched for an iconic song. “...‘Call Me Maybe’.” 

“Hmm.” 

“That song is a bop. No one appreciates Carly Rae for her songwriting genius. The entirety of Emotion….it just captures the human experience. She deserved a Nobel Prize for it, honestly.” He played a couple of chords. “Maybe I should do some cover songs tonight. The people like it when folk musicians play covers. I’ll play...oooo, an obscure Carly song? What’s your favorite Carly Rae Jepsen song, Geralt?”

“I like ‘Favourite Colour’.” Geralat said thoughtfully, not looking up from his phone. Jaskier had forcibly educated him in the wonders of Carly Rae’s music, and he was pleased that his friend had found an appreciation for what Jaskier regarded as the pinnacle of human music. 

“I’ll play that, then. Thank you for providing essential input for my band’s performance. We appreciate the input of the public.” Jaskier said. He flipped to a different page of his notebook and scribbled ‘Favourite Color’ down in the margin of the already hectic setlist. Years of occupational therapy had done little to change his barely comprehensible handwriting, but now that he was an adult he supposed that it didn’t really matter that no one but himself and Geralt could read it. Every time he said this, Geralt would point out that he worked a job where it was important for people to be able to read what he had written on their drinks, but Jaskier ignored this feedback. Geralt liked to try and logic the ridiculous things Jaskier said to him, and Jaskier had gotten into the habit of ignoring this. In the beginnings of their friendship, he had riled Geralt up with his insistence that the things he was saying were perfectly normal, but he had learned to not do this. It had helped that Geralt would finish such conversations with a punch to the shoulder, and Jaskier had grown tired of not being able to feel his arms.

There was a knock on the door, and Jaskier put his guitar aside to answer it. A squint through the peephole showed that Yennefer de Vengerberg was standing outside, wearing a transparent raincoat over a very short black dress and impressive thigh-high boots. Jaskier marveled at her ability to walk through the rain in 6-inch heels and not immediately fall and die.

“Yennefer de Vengerberg, welcome to our humble abode.” he said, opening the door and bowing frivolously. 

“Why, thank you, Sir Pankratz, thou art a noble bard if ever I did meet one.” Yennefer said, returning the gesture. “Where might I place my coat, for it is wet outside and I shiver in the cold.” 

“Right here, my lady.” Jaskier accepted the coat with another bow. Yennefer took her boots off and immediately shrank down to a few inches shorter than Jaskier. Her boots loomed over the jumble of running shoes and ankle boots that sat by the door. 

“Morning, Yen.” Geralt had started reading the exceptionally thick fantasy book he was working his way through, and he did not look up to see who had arrived.

“Good morning, Geralt.” Yennefer said. “I see you got a run in this morning.” 

“Despite the rain.” Jaskier returned to his place on the couch and began running through the song again. Yennefer took the singular free square and crossed her legs neatly under herself. 

“Are you writing a new song?” she asked. “Don’t you have a gig tonight?”

“Mr. Dandelion believes in having a new song for every gig.” Geralt said when Jaskier didn’t answer. He had heard her, but he was too focused on playing to answer. “That’s why he has so many ridiculous songs.”

“Toss a Coin to My Roommate is a perfectly normal and good song that people love for its artistic value.” Jaskier said, scribbling out a chord and replacing it.

“Oh valley of plenty, ahaa.” Geralt said in a deadpan monotone. Jaskier tossed his pencil at Geralt and received it back almost immediately afterwards. It bounced off of his head and fell under the couch. Yennefer shook her head.

“You two.” she said. “We had an interesting night last night at the store.” 

“More people who really believe in magic?” Jaskier asked, leaning across his guitar. 

“Worse. A wife came in to accuse her husband of infidelity while he was shopping for ginkgo biloba. Now that was a scene.” Yennefer grinned with a kind of maniacal glee. “He just wanted to...pleasure her, and she thought he was trying to fuck his secretary.”

“Poor man.” Geralt said. 

“It was fucking hilarious, Geralt.” Yennefer said. “That man comes in all the time, and he’s a dick.” Jaskier sniggered, and Yennefer rolled her eyes at him. “He deserved it.” Yennefer ran an occult shop that specialized in natural remedies for sexual issues, and she had a trove of stories like this one. Jaskier scribbled a few more chords, played through the progression two more times, then hopped up. 

“I think it’s waffle time.” he said. 

“About fucking time. I’m starving.” Geralt declared. Jaskier hopped down the hall on the balls of his feet to his bedroom, where he tucked his guitar onto the stand next to the neat stack of other instruments. He would have to bring the lute tonight; it would make his new song sound that much better. When he returned, Geralt was organizing the ingredients around the waffle maker while Yennefer watched him from the corner of the counter. Jaskier pulled out a bowl from under the counter and began pouring the meticulously measured wet ingredients that Geralt passed him. They had worked out a system years ago, and when Yennefer had first joined their group she had been categorically banned from taking part in the waffle-making ritual. During the year Geralt and Yen had dated, Jaskier had pointedly avoided waffle day, but when the break-up had cooled and Yen had quietly slipped back into their lives, they had reworked the system to include her. At the moment, she was whisking flour, sugar, baking soda, and salt together. The wet ingredients were poured with aplomb into the larger bowl, and Geralt commenced the mixing. Jaskier leaned on the counter, watching his friend stirring, and it occurred to him that there was something unbelievably sexy about a man in the kitchen.

“Jask, get the PAM.” Geralt’s stiff order snapped through his thoughtful haze, and he pulled himself off of the counter to grab the spray out of the cupboard. Yennefer made eyes at him from across the island, and he flipped her off while Geralt was focused on evenly pouring the batter.

“Waffle day is not a place for obscene gestures, Mr. Pankratz.” Yennefer said archly, frowning in mock disapproval. 

“I wish that rule had been in place seven years ago.” Jaskier shot back. “You two didn’t seem to care about it.” The jibe came out sharper than he had meant, and Geralt twisted his lips in what was clearly embarrassment. Jaskier kicked himself in the ankle, hurting himself more than he had meant to. Stupid Jaskier, always saying dumb shit, hurting people’s feelings, why did he even….

“I’m going to start cutting up some fruit.” Yennefer announced, a little louder than she really needed to. Jaskier followed her to the counter and took a hunk of melon for himself to work on. “You know Geralt doesn’t mind when you say things like that as much as you think he does.” she muttered when Geralt disappeared off into the depths of the apartment. “You need to stop being so hard on yourself.” 

“I know, Yen.” Jaskier said, neatly cubing his slice of melon and sliding it onto the plate Yennefer had pulled out from somewhere. “It dosen’t stop me from thinking, though.” Yennefer looked like she was about to say something else, but she replaced whatever she had been thinking with another pile of fruit. The waffle maker beeped, and Jaskier abandoned his fruit to remove the completed waffles and start another batch. He had gotten better at filling it to Geralt’s exacting standards, but he was still relieved of his duties when Geralt returned.

“I can finish that, thanks, Jask.” he said, gently lifting the bowl from Jaskier’s hands. Jaskier buzzed at the gentle brush of Geralt’s fingers against his own. 

“You are such a useless gay.” Yennefer whispered when he returned to the fruit, and he slapped at her. 

It took them another ten minutes to finish the waffles, but the wait was worth it. Jaskier slathered his stack in butter and more syrup than was really reasonable, but he liked to slather his fruit in it. 

“Why do you eat strawberries like that, Jaskier?” Yennefer sighed as he bit into a particularly juicy fruit. “It’s not  _ corn _ .”

“It’s more fun.” Jaskier said. “Don’t question my wonderful life choices.” 

“Hmm.” Geralt raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Oh, shut up.” 

“I’ve changed my plans, and I’m actually going to be able to make it to your show tonight.” Yennefer said, taking a delicate bite out of the single square she had on her fork. Jaskier had never understood why she ate waffles so primly. They were  _ waffles _ . Back when they had quarreled more often, he had always got on her for her use of a fork and knife to eat everything, and while he didn’t snipe at her as often anymore, he still could never believe his eyes when he saw her doing things like this.

“Oh, excellent.” Jaskier said. “Geralt has already claimed the honor of choosing a cover song for me to sing, but I’m sure you’ll find something special in my set for you.”

“As long as Toss a Coin is there, I’m happy.” Yennefer smiled mischievously at Geralt, who frowned.

“I’ve got a new song, too. It’s a raunchy one.” Jaskier said cheerfully. Yennefer chortled, and Geralt rolled his eyes at the both of them. “Aw, Geralt, you know you’ll love it.” Geralt considered his words carefully.

“Hmm.”

“Oh,  _ fuck _ off.”

\------

The bar was busy and crowded, as it usually was when Jaskier played. Geralt tried his best to not look like a deer in headlights, but it was hard when there were so many people so close together. The music throbbing through the speakers wasn’t helping. Yennefer had left him to go to the bathroom, and while he was glad she wasn’t trying to make conversation while he was slowly shutting down, he missed her company. He clicked the switch side of the fidget cube Jaskier had given him ages ago back and forth, certain that if this continued his thumb would gain its own six pack. 

He knew this was what he was getting himself into every time he came to one of Jaskier’s shows, but he wasn’t going to miss it. He rarely did, and the only time in his life with Jaskier he had missed a show was the year he had dated Yennefer. He was sure that had been part of the reason Jaskier had hated Yen back then. It was a good thing they had realized dating wasn’t going to work out. Geralt rarely admitted it, but he didn’t know what he would do without Jaskier.

“I got us drinks.” Yennefer appeared out of the crowd and pressed a dark, foamy beer into Geralt’s hands. “Let’s go sit down, shall we? Less noise over there.” 

“Hmm.” Geralt glanced over at the handful of rows of chairs set up in front of the tiny little stage and decided that Yennefer was right. He led the charge through the crowd, allowing his bulk to part the waters of tipsy people standing around tables. There were plenty of stools, so he wasn’t exactly sure why people were choosing to crowd the walk space. They sat on the end of the center row. Yennefer liked to sit in the very middle of the crowd so she could have a direct line of sight on Jaskier –she said it was to be certain he knew they were there–but she didn’t mind going against her usual patterns if it made Geralt more comfortable. Geralt took a long draught of his beer, which he was pretty sure was one of the local craft beers the bar had started selling a couple months previously, and ran his fingers over the spinning ball on his cube. 

The seats around them had started filling, and a man appeared from a back room and set Jaskier’s lute on a stand. 

“I didn’t realize he was going to play lute tonight.” Yennefer said, taking a thoughtful sip of her drink. “This should be a fun show.” 

“He played lute last time.” Geralt said. “I guess you weren’t there last time.” 

“You know, Geralt,” Yennefer said, drawing out the words in a way that made Geralt certain that she was about to give him advice, as she usually did at times like these. “The only way you’re going to know for certain what he thinks about you...is if you ask him out.” 

“Yennefer, is this really the right time for this?” Geralt rocked the little lever on his cube so hard he was worried he had broken it for a second.

“You’ll get nowhere if you say nothing.” Yennefer continued as if she had not heard his frustrated tone.

“That’s what you’ve been saying for the past five years.” 

“I should have been saying it for longer.” Yennefer said. “How long have you been in love with him? Since before I even came around?” 

“I don’t know, Yennefer.” Geralt snapped. “It just...I don’t know.” People in the front row started clapping and cheering raucously, and he turned his head to the stage to see Jaskier sauntering onstage, followed by his bassist and drummer. He was wearing a vest over an undershirt that made it seem like he wasn’t wearing anything else under the vest, and tight jeans. Geralt’s fingers twirled the cube faster as his heart started thudding as it always did when he saw Jaskier and was surprised yet again by the strength of his emotions for his friend. The musicians on stage tuned, and Jaskier turned to the mic with a grin dancing across his face. 

“Hello, hello.” he said. “We’re Dandelion,” He was interrupted by screams from the front row, “...and we’ve got a lovely evening of music planned for you. What do you say we...dive right in?” He turned to his band, gave a quick count-off, and they dove straight into ‘Across the Bar’. 

“ _ Playing a late night show, and it’s just me and my guitar…” _

Geralt knew exactly when he had realized he was in love with Jaskier. He had known the musician for over twenty years now. They had been in their early twenties when they had crossed paths in a dark and dingy bar in a small town. Geralt had been there to drown his sorrows, for he had just come off of a combination of a bad break-up and a lost job. Jaskier was there to perform. He remembered glaring down into his beer and wishing the man in the colorful jacket and tight jeans would stop  _ singing _ and let him stew in his depression. Jaskier had not let him stew, oh no. The man had come and sat with him after the show, and had followed him out of the bar. Geralt had thrown him off and slunk away to his dingy apartment. He had not been able to get rid of him for long, because when he had left his home to go looking for another job the damned musician had been sitting and playing outside of his building. It had been a coincidence, but a good one. Geralt was glad he had found Jaskier.

“ _ And I don’t know your name and you don’t know mine but I’d like to get to know you won’t you please be please be mine….?” _

They had both needed a roommate. It had just made sense. Jaskier had never actually told Geralt why he had been sitting on the street in such a bad part of town, but Geralt suspected that his friend had been homeless at the time. In any case, he had needed a new place to live, and it made sense for Geralt to have a roommate. They had moved into an apartment, not the one they lived in currently and not even in the same town, and it had worked. They had grown to be best friends, despite their many differences. After living together for so long, they understood each other like no one else. There had been a brief period when they had not lived together, during Geralt’s year dating Yennefer and the year afterwards, and that period had been one of the worst of Geralt’s life. He had loved Yennefer, and their break-up had been nasty and painful. It didn’t help that a day later, Geralt had taken out all of his anger and grief on Jaskier. Jaskier had moved to another city, leaving Geralt alone and without the two most important people in his life.

“ _ Playing a late show, and I looked across the room...and across the room was you.”  _

After a year alone, Geralt had moved to the city he knew Jaskier was in, telling himself it was because he had gotten a contracting job there. He had moved into the apartment they now lived in, and he had told himself that the reason he kept loitering around coffee shops and bars was not because he was looking for Jaskier, but because he needed something to do. They had found each other again. There was no way for them to be seperated, Geralt was starting to learn. They always found their way back to each other. It had been then that he had known for certain that he loved Jaskier.

“All right, everyone, this one’s a little slower, but we’ve certainly got more bangers in the set for those of you who like it when we  _ rock _ .”

He had been walking down the street, not really thinking about anything. It had been the end of a long day, and he had been wearing his work clothes, which as usual were covered in dirt and bits of cement. There were a lot of people running around him, but he had not paid attention to them. He was so focused on getting home and taking a nice hot shower that he had almost not heard his name being called. He had heard, eventually. It was hard to not hear when someone screamed your name, even if they were at least a block away from you. He had turned. He had known deep in his heart who it was. 

“ _ Even when you’re gone away, my heart, it stays with you. And even when you’ve turned from me, my heart remains true, because it’s you. It’s always been you. _ ”

He had stared at Jaskier, and he had felt his heart pounding in a way it had not in a long time. He had hardly been able to believe his eyes. “ _ Geralt, what...you’re... _ ” He had been expecting Jaskier to shout at him, to throw some of what Geralt had said to him back at him, but Jaskier had not done that. He had simply stood there, as if he couldn’t believe Geralt was really there, as if he didn’t know what he was supposed to say. And Geralt had dug through the long speech he had prepared for this very moment and pulled out the only words that had really mattered. “ _ Jask...I’m sorry. _ ” Jaskier had smiled, his eyes overflowing with tears, and they had hugged. And it had been enough. Somehow, it had been enough to repair everything Geralt had said to Jaskier during that awful year, everything they had shouted at each other during the innumerable fights they had had. Not enough to convey some of the things he had wanted to say, but Geralt was too...too what? Too cowardly to tell Jaskier his true feelings? 

“Geralt Riviiowski, this one’s for you!” 

“Oh fuck.” Geralt said, anticipating “Toss a Coin to My Roommate”, but he was pleasantly surprised when the song turned out to be a really lovely lute version of Carly Rae Jepsen’s “Favourite Colour”. Someday, maybe, Jaskier would know what all the love songs he sang did to Geralt’s heart. 

Jaskier ran through all his standards, each of which was greeted with rowdy cheers. “The Fishmonger’s Daughter” was just as horribly cheeky as Geralt expected it to be, and the incredibly tipsy crowd loved it. He followed that up with “Toss a Coin to My Roommate”, which the entire bar sang along to and which Geralt made himself very small for the duration of. It was late, so he and the rest of the crowd expected that to be the closer, but Jaskier had one more song tucked into his back pocket for them. 

“All right, it’s been lovely, but it really is late, isn’t it?” Jaskier said. The crowd offered their disagreement with his assessment of the time. “I would stay for longer, but I need my beauty sleep. You don’t end up this gorgeous without taking care of yourself.” He winked, and the crowd cheered. “I’m going to end with a quiet song that I actually wrote right before the show, so y’all get two new songs tonight.” More cheers. “This one is called, ‘Rainstorm’.” He picked up his lute and began to arpeggiate gentle chords. Geralt did not know when Jaskier had found time to write this song, as he hadn’t heard him writing it. Knowing Jaskier, he had probably written it in the back of the car while Geralt was driving. 

“I looked out my window

Just to see where you had gone–

You’re running through a rainstorm

And I’m losing sight of you.

I’ve been waiting for you to come back

For gods know how long,

Still running in that rainstorm. 

Haven’t you noticed I’m right here?

And I’ll wait….

I’ll just wait right here,

Watching the clouds come in.

And I don’t know where you’ve gone.

Was it me that chased you out there?

Is it me that keeps you running?

But if you just turned around you would see

That I left the door ajar for you.”

It was a beautiful song, and Geralt suspected he knew where the metaphor that formed the backbone of it had come from. He smiled quietly to himself. Jaskier really was a genius with words.

“Geralt, this is about you.” Yennefer hissed in his ear. She must have gone to get more alcohol at some point during the performance; Geralt had been so hyperfocused on the music that he had probably not noticed her getting up. Geralt turned to stare at her. “It’s fuckin...it’s about you.” she repeated. 

“I’ve been standing in the rain

I’ve been standing in the rain

And I can’t see your face for the tears in my eyes.

You’ve been running again

And you’ve gone where I can’t find you.

You keep running in the rain

Running in the rain

Can’t you see that I’m waiting for you?

Don’t you know my heart only beats for you?”

Up until this point, Geralt had been watching Jaskier’s fingers weaving their way across the lute’s strings, but now he looked up into Jaskier’s face. Their eyes met, and Geralt found he could not look away as Jaskier finished the song. 

“I looked out my window

Just to see where you had gone–

You’re running through a rainstorm again.

Don’t you know you’ve taken my heart with you?

Don’t you know I’ve been waiting so long?”

He strummed a gentle chord that echoed out over the silent crowd, and it felt like that as the notes faded away everyone was holding their breath. The applause that followed was like gunshots in Geralt’s ears, but he kept staring at Jaskier. Yennefer was drunk; did she have the capacity to know the deep secrets of his lyrics? Jaskier didn’t go in for literal lyrics, so it wasn’t specifically about Geralt running. Was it? What did that look on Jaskier’s face  _ mean _ ?

“C’mon, let’s go backstage now so we miss the crush.” Yennefer said, tugging on Geralt’s arm, and he followed her across the bar and to the stage door. He would not ask Jaskier. That would be too forward. He would just have to mull this over for the rest of the night or possibly his entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of Jaskier's songs (except for, of course, the songs that are derived from the show) are written by yours truly! Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you enjoy my premier contribution to this fandom, and feel free to scream at me in the comments!


	2. It'll soak you to the bone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Jaskier have a visitor in the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's possible I forgot what day it was and forgot to post this morning. That's quarantine for ya! The title comes from 'Welly Boots', which is as always by The Amazing Devil. Comments are always welcome, and you can come yell at me on my tumblr, @tamisnotagirl. Thank you for reading!!

It had stopped raining for a brief handful of hours after Jaskier’s gig, but by the time he was getting into bed the rhythmic drumming of droplets had returned. He lay in the darkness listening to the rain and thinking. He would have liked to go to sleep, as he had an early shift the next morning, but his brain would not allow this. Geralt had not said anything out of the ordinary, but Jaskier knew he must know. They had been staring at each other for a long time during the last few verses. There was no way Geralt had not cracked the code of Jaskier’s song. And yet...had he? Jaskier knew his beloved friend and roommate could be dense, but was he that dense? Jaskier rolled over onto his side and stared mindlessly at the glow of his alarm clock. It was almost two in the morning. Had he really been lying there thinking for that long? It had only been midnight when he had gotten into bed.

The doorbell rang. Jaskier sat straight up in bed, frowning. It was a strange time for someone to be ringing their doorbell. Yennefer always knocked, so it wasn’t her. Unless she thought they were sleeping and needed to wake them up? Were they about to receive a telegram from a mysterious relative announcing their demise? Was it a murderer?

“Jask.” Geralt appeared in the light coming in from the hall. “Are you expecting someone?” 

“No.” Jaskier got out of bed. Geralt had been gracious enough to put a pair of sweatpants on, but Jaskier didn’t give a shit who saw him in his cat boxers. Well, he did give a shit about  _ one _ person seeing him in his cat boxers, but that person saw him wandering around pantless everyday. “It can’t be something good.” Geralt nodded, his eyebrows scrunching together. They walked towards the door together, Jaskier fully ready to open the door and start throwing punches. He was reaching for the handle when Geralt grabbed his wrist.

“Check through the spy hole.” he said, his voice barely a rumble. Jaskier made an apologetic face and peered out into the hallway. He was not expecting what he saw there.

“It’s a girl.” he hissed, looking at Geralt. “A kid. Do you know any people with kids?” Geralt shook his head and opened the door. 

The girl standing on their doorstep couldn’t have been more than twelve. She was wearing a blue raincoat with the hood up, and she was creating a puddle in the hallway. Clutched in her hands was a large black umbrella that she held as if it were a sword, and her green eyes had a hardness to them. 

“Are you Geralt Riviiowski?” she asked Jaskier, frowning at him. “You don’t look like how Grandma described you.”

“I am Geralt Riviiowski.” Geralt gently nudged Jaskier aside and came to stare at the girl. “Who are you, and who is your grandmother?”

“Ciri Rhiannon.” the girl said, and Geralt’s eyes widened. “My grandma is…was…Calanthe Rhiannon.”

“Was.” Geralt repeated. “Come inside and get dry, and then you can tell me, tell us, why you are here and what happened to Calanthe.” Ciri stepped inside, and Jaskier slipped away down the hallway to put some clothes on. When he returned wearing the first pair of jeans he could pull from his dresser and a sweatshirt, he found Ciri sitting in the corner of the couch, her raincoat hanging from a kitchen chair. She had long, ash-blond hair, and she was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt for the Cintra Lions that was just a little too big for her. It swallowed her hands. By her feet was a slightly damp purple backpack that was bulging at the seams. Geralt was in the kitchen.

“Who is she?” Jaskier whispered, walking over and leaning against the counter next to the stove. Geralt was making hot chocolate, presumably for Ciri. “The name Rhiannon sounds familiar, but I’m not sure where I know it from.”

“Do you remember that party you made me come with you to?” Geralt asked, keeping his eyes on his task. “The one in Cintra?”

“The one...damn, how long ago  _ was _ that?” Jaskier frowned. “Oh, of  _ course _ .  _ That  _ Calanthe.  _ Queen  _ Calanthe.” Geralt nodded. “Oh my gods, and Cintra was just…” Geralt nodded. “And Ciri’s mother...she died a few years ago, too?”

“Pavetta, yes.” Geralt said. “Do you remember how we got in the middle of a brawl at that party?”

“I can hardly forget.” Jaskier said. “You so bravely defended me and my precious guitar from the angry muscular men.” 

“Hmm.” Geralt peered into the pot, determined the chocolate sufficient, and divided it carefully among three mugs. “Calanthe remembered me, and she stays in contact...to an extent. She must have known that Nilfgaard were coming, and she must have told Ciri to come to me. I wonder how she knew our address? I don’t think I’ve ever told Calanthe that.” He picked up two of the mugs and walked into the living room. Jaskier picked up the third and followed him. He settled into the armchair and took a careful sip of the liquid. Geralt liked his hot drinks barely drinkable, but he had clearly made an exception for their guest and had chosen to keep the milk at pleasantly warm. Geralt sat on the other end of the couch from Ciri and set her mug down on the coffee table in front of her. Ciri took it and stared at both of them warily. Roach appeared from Geralt’s bedroom and hopped up onto the couch, settling herself down next to Ciri and beginning to purr like a lawnmower.

“You don’t have to tell us everything.” Geralt said gently. “Did your grandmother send you to us?” Ciri took a cautious sip of her drink and nodded. 

“She died last month.” she said quietly. “I’ve been looking for you ever since.” Geralt and Jaskier exchanged a glance.

“Were you travelling with anyone?” Jaskier asked cautiously. Ciri shook her head.

“Everyone is dead.” she whispered. “Nilfgaard...they…” She shook her head and took a long drink of hot chocolate. 

“Ok.” Geralt said calmly. “You can stay here. I know Calanthe, your grandma, I know she trusted me, and apparently she trusted me enough with her only granddaughter. We have extra sheets and blankets, and this…” He patted the couch. “It turns into a bed. It’s not a lot of space, but it’s the best we have.”

“Does Yennefer have an extra bed?” Jaskier wondered. He had never actually been in her apartment. Geralt shook his head.

“Her apartment is tiny.” he said. “There was...never mind.” He shuffled his feet on the rug. “We can make it work.”

“Thank you.” Ciri smiled faintly.

“Do you want to take a shower? Or a bath?” Jaskier asked. “I know it’s two in the morning…”

“I can wait.” Ciri did look tired. 

“I’ll find some blankets.” Geralt stood with a quiet grunt and disappeared down the hall. Jaskier took a drink from his mug, feeling decidedly awkward. He could feel Ciri’s eyes on him, watching him with the look of a hunted animal. 

“They might come looking for me.” she said quietly, setting her mug down on the coffee table. “Nilfgaard.” Jaskier stared at her, and Ciri shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know if they will. But they might.” 

“Oh. OK.” Anxiety curled in his stomach. He wanted to help this girl, but Nilfgaard? A whole country, looking for the girl sitting on his living room sofa? They would find her. They were a rich country, and people whispered about their capabilities. When they found her, they would not hold back their vengeance on those who had sheltered her. He drained the dregs of his hot chocolate and, picking up Ciri’s mug, went to the sink to wash them. There had to be a way to help Ciri without bringing the wrath of Nilfgaard down on them. Were there refugee organizations that could help her? He was sure places like that had structures in place to protect the people they took in. The organizations were already overwhelmed with Cintrans from the attack, though. How could they help someone being hunted by the entire army? How had Ciri escaped  _ Nilfgaard _ ?

“Jask.” A pair of strong hands took the mugs out of his hands and tucked them into the drying rack. “You’ve been scrubbing those far too hard for...five minutes.” 

“They were extra dirty.” Jaskier quipped. Geralt frowned at him, but there was a gentle concern in his eyes. 

“Are you all right?” he asked. “You seem…off.”

“I’m just...I’m worried.” Jaskier lowered his voice so that Ciri couldn’t hear him. “Geralt, what if Nilfgaard comes after us for keeping her? I want to help her, but…” He spread his hands helplessly. “I don’t know about this.” 

“Hmm.” Geralt studied the granite of the island, clearly formulating an answer. “I don’t know if they’ll be able to find us. We are only a contractor and a folk singer in a completely different city several countries over. I am not sure if anyone knows that Calanthe and I have any connection.”

“They can find us.” Jaskier said darkly. “It’s not that I don’t want to help her, it’s just...I’m worried about us. I’m worried we can’t protect her, and I’m worried they’ll come for us, and...I’m worried.” Geralt studied the granite some more, then reached over and squeezed Jaskier’s shoulder. His hand lingered for a little longer than usual, and Jaskier wondered if Geralt had understood the meaning of the song after all. 

“We will be fine.” Geralt said. “We will keep Ciri safe, and Nilfgaard will not come after us.” 

“I hope you’re right.” Jaskier said.

“Hmm.” Geralt looked up at the ceiling. “It’s late. You should get to bed.” 

“So should you.” Jaskier said, poking him in the shoulder. Geralt smiled enigmatically, and Jaskier suppressed his deep urge to kiss him. “Good night, Geralt. Actually go to bed.” 

“I will.” Geralt called after him. Jaskier got into bed, but his mind was racing even faster than it had been before Ciri had arrived, and it took him a further hour to actually fall asleep.

\------

The events of the previous night–early morning, whatever it had been–felt almost like a dream to Geralt when he woke up. He lay in bed for a few moments, listening to the familiar morning sounds of Jaskier clattering around the bathroom, then remembered. Ciri. He rolled out of bed and got dressed. It was just a coincidence that he was wearing his slim-fit jeans. There was no planning involved. Jaskier wasn’t even going to be home until after 3. He was brushing his hair because he liked having untangled hair. He wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary. He liked braiding his hair sometimes. 

“Fuck, if Yen could hear inside of my mind right now.” Geralt said to his reflection, adjusting the collar of his flannel. The bisexual pride d20 shirt he was wearing was the only t-shirt with color that he owned, and it had been a birthday gift from Jaskier years ago. Geralt padded out into the main room and found Ciri carefully folding up the blankets and setting them in one corner of the stowed couch. Jaskier was delicately pouring milk over an almost overflowing bowl of cereal, his eyes narrowed in concentration. 

“Good morning, Ciri.” Geralt said to the girl. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and nervous. “Did you sleep all right?”

“Well enough.” Ciri said, her voice just above a whisper. 

“Good.” Geralt smiled at her. “What do you want to eat? We have cereal, although the Corn Chex are off limits…”

“Ciri can have some.” Jaskier called, pausing his devouring just a moment. Geralt glanced at the clock and noticed that Jaskier was up earlier than he usually was on Saturday mornings. He must not have slept well the previous night. 

“All right. We have cereal, bread, I think we still have bagels.”

“Yup.”

“Bagels. Am I forgetting anything, Jask?”

“Eggs.”

“Oh, yes. I can make you eggs, or you can make eggs. Whatever you’d like.” Ciri pulled the sleeves of her sweatshirt over her hands and considered.

“I’d like scrambled eggs and toast, please.” she said finally.

“OK.” Geralt said. He went to the fridge and arranged the materials on the counter, then began the measuring process. Ciri came over to watch him. 

“How do you  _ do _ that?” she asked after he had cracked two eggs using his standard one-hand technique.

“It’s simple.” Geralt said. “Here.” He tapped the egg firmly on the edge of the bowl and showed her how to pull the eggshell apart with her fingers. Ciri tried and got eggshell in the bowl, but on her second try she broke it almost cleanly.

“OK, I’m impressed.” Jaskier said, dodging around Geralt to put his bowl in the dishwasher. “I always crumble the egg into pieces with my clumsy, meaty hands.”

“You just need to be more delicate with it.” Geralt said, beginning to whisk the concoction. 

“I’m sorry for not having magically delicate fairy hands like some of us.” Jaskier sniped. Geralt smirked at him. “Well,  _ adieu _ . I go to make the money that makes the eggs happen.” He picked up his backpack from where it lived on the coat hooks and flounced out of the door. Geralt shook his head and smiled to himself, glad that no one was looking at him to see the goofy face he was making.

“How long have you two been together?” Geralt had been wrong. Ciri was watching him, her eyes boring deep into his soul. Geralt prayed desperately that he wasn’t blushing as he poured the egg mixture into the pan and passed her the spatula.

“Why don’t...why don’t you take care of scrambling?” he sputtered.

“How long have you been dating?” Ciri repeated, accepting the utensil and beginning to move the eggs around.

“We aren’t...we’re just...no.” Geralt had lost track of how speaking worked. “We are not together.” he managed to spit out. 

“Why not?” Ciri prodded the eggs around.

“We’re just...I don’t know. We just aren’t.” Geralt turned his attention to Roach, who had padded into the kitchen, and scooped her up. She didn’t try and prod him into confessing to Jaskier. 

“I see.” Ciri regarded him with a thoughtful expression and continued to prod the eggs. Roach climbed up onto Geralt’s shoulders and licked his hair, purring contentedly. Geralt went to put bread in the toaster. Ciri finished the eggs–Geralt was pleased to see that she also liked her eggs practically burnt–and took an impressive pile for herself. He took the rest and went to the fridge for salsa and butter. They sat at the table and ate. Ciri destroyed her toast with the amount of butter she scraped over it and soaked it in marmalade. Something told Geralt that allowing a child to eat that much jam of any kind was not really the best choice, but he didn’t know enough about looking after children to really say. She had been through enough that he thought it was not a bad thing to allow her this. 

“What kinds of things did you like to do at home?” he asked after they had eaten in silence for several minutes. It was a Jaskier question, but channeling Jaskier was not always a bad thing. Ciri shuffled her feet.

“Horse riding, um...and I like swimming in the lake…” She took a large bite of eggs and studied her plate. Geralt cursed, remembering that things princesses did, even modern princesses, were things that he and Jaskier could not provide. “Running in the garden...oh, and I like playing video games! Eist...Eist and I were working our way through Red Dead Redemption 2, and I could always beat him at Mario Kart...” She trailed off and put down the bit of toast she had been eating. “I think I’m done.” She stood up and whisked her plate away. Geralt finished his own meal, studying Ciri’s empty chair. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. Ciri went to her backpack, pulled out a small bag, and disappeared into the bathroom.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Roach.” Geralt asked the cat, who was lurking around his ankles. “How do I parent a child who’s been through...fuck if I know how to even comprehend what she’s seen. I’m not the right person for this.” 

_ Mrrp. _

“I know, I’ll learn. But that’s not good enough. She needs someone who knows what they're doing, not...not me.” 

_ Brrrup. _

“Roach, I can barely tell my best friend of fifteen years I might be in love with him, how am I supposed to help a child grow up after trauma?”

_ Miaoww _ .

“I know it’s not the same thing, but it feels like the same thing. I’m not even a functional adult.”

_ Rrrraowwww _ .

“OK, I’ll give you breakfast.” Geralt bent down to scratch his cat behind the ears, then stood up and put his dishes in the dishwasher. Roach followed him, demanding tribute until he finally filled her bowl. “At least you understand me, Roach.”


	3. I can smell the smoke of hell in every stitch and seam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt is a soft dad. Jaskier is roasted by a preteen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is from 'Elsa's Song' by, you guessed it, The Amazing Devil. Come chat on tumblr @tamisnotagirl, or check out my new image description blog, @accessiblewitcher (yay shameless self promotion)! Thank you for reading!! I appreciate you <3

Saturday nights were Jaskier and Geralt’s movie night. That had been the case since they had become friends, and it, like Waffle Day, was a ritual that they kept to religiously. Jaskier joked that the real reason their huge fight had happened was Geralt had skipped movie night to have sex with Yennefer, and while that wasn’t entirely true, it was not far from the mark. Ciri’s arrival, however, made things complicated. The movie Jaskier had picked out for them to watch was  _ Cats _ , and while Geralt didn’t know a lot about it he was fairly certain that the barely decent anthropomorphic cats were not appropriate for children to see. 

“Geralt, she’s twelve.” Jaskier said in the middle of their argument about it before dinner that night. “She’s probably seen a naked man before, and it’s not like they’re  _ people _ .” 

“They’re still  _ naked _ .” Geralt grumbled.

“What are you talking about?” Over the past twenty-four hours, Ciri had slowly started to come out of her shell, and she had taken to randomly butting into conversations. Admittedly, they were arguing in the doorway of the bathroom. 

“Oh, nothing.” Jaskier said cheerfully. “Just...figuring out what movie we want to watch tonight.”

“I saw posters for  _ Cats _ when I was...running.” Ciri said. “Is that on streaming? I want to see it!” 

“Fu-hmm.” Geralt caught himself just in time. “Fine. We’ll watch  _ Cats _ .” Jaskier grinned at him triumphantly, and he thumped him in the chest. 

“Yes!” Ciri cheered, and hurried back into the living room. Roach, who was used to Jaskier yelling and making strange noises of various kinds, did not budge from her perch on the back of the sofa. 

“Victory for the theater, hmm?” Jaskier whispered in Geralt’s ear, chuckling softly as he followed Ciri, and Geralt was forced to stay in the doorway of the bathroom in order to fully collect himself from...whatever it was that had made him feel. 

“Hmm.” he grumbled, and stalked into the kitchen. They had ordered pizza, and Ciri had requested a horrifying assortment of toppings that Geralt was not really able to process with his mind, let alone his eyes. When he had called to order, the employee on the other end had asked him to repeat her toppings at least three times, and Geralt had dutifully recited them, but he was still not sure exactly what Ciri was putting in her body. It hadn’t helped that Jaskier had been laughing like a maniac the entire time. 

“At least she’s eating vegetables.” Jaskier commented now, regarding the horrendous mountain that loomed over his simple-seeming Hawaiian. “There’s always that.”

“Hmm.” Geralt delicately stacked three pieces of pepperoni pizza on his plate and took a healthy amount of Brussels sprouts, being very careful to not let the soy sauce Jaskier had covered them in get near his pizza tower. It was a lost cause, but he could try. Ciri was already tearing into her vegetable-covered abomination when he sat down. 

“This is good!” she announced, thankfully remembering her princess manners and swallowing before she began to speak. “Grandma always...used too…” She trailed off and turned her attention exclusively to her food. Geralt and Jaskier exchanged glances over the table. 

“This is my favorite pizza, and I’ve eaten a lot of pizza.” Jaskier said, moving the conversation back to food and away from Ciri’s loss. “Do you remember the week we only ate pizza way back when, Geralt?”

“When we couldn’t afford anything else.” Geralt said. “I remember.” 

“I wish I could only eat pizza.” Ciri said wistfully, perking up. “When I was little I tried to convince my mom to let me, but she believed in vegetables.” 

“Most mothers do.” Jaskier said in a commiserating way. “The only reason I eat vegetables is because my mother comes through my window at night and force feeds me them.” Geralt stared meaningfully at his plate, which clearly had a significant amount of Brussels sprouts on it. Jaskier gave him a side eye and quickly devoured the vegetables. Ciri cackled. 

“Don’t listen to anything Jaskier tells you.” Geralt advised. “He is a lying fool.” That made Ciri laugh even more.

“Oh, Geralt.” Jaskier sighed. “If only you could understand comedy.” 

“Ciri, do you want to come running with me tomorrow?” Geralt asked, ignoring Jaskier. “I usually get up early and run for about an hour.”

“I would like that!” Ciri said cheerfully through a mouthful of pizza. “I haven’t gone running, really running, since…” Her cheerful demeanor dropped again. “You know.” she mumbled. 

“Excellent.” Geralt said. 

“He runs rain or shine.” Jaskier said, an odd expression on his face. “Snow or sleet, hail or sun, nothing will stop Geralt Riviiowski from getting his daily exercise.” He tore a piece of crust and chewed it thoughtfully. “Now that was poetry if I’ve ever heard it.”

“Have you ever heard poetry, Jaskier?” Geralt wondered. Jaskier tossed the remains of his crust at Geralt, his eyes narrowed, and Geralt caught it deftly. Ciri’s eyes widened.

“How did you  _ do _ that?” she asked. 

“He’s literally a ninja.” Jaskier said seriously. 

“Kung fu is a Chinese martial art, and ninjas are Japanese.” Geralt said automatically.

“Whoaaa.” Ciri’s eyes grew even wider. “Are you like, a black belt, or something?” 

“Fourth degree.” Jaskier said proudly, as if he had anything to do with Geralt’s belt achievements. “We have the greatest respect for Sifu Riviiowski in this house.”

“Could you kill someone?” Ciri leaned across the table. 

“...I don’t know.” Geralt muttered. “Maybe.” 

“You should do your….what’s it called, the big long axe thing? You should do that form for Ciri.” Jaskier said. 

“My kwan dao isn’t at home.” Geralt said. “I can bring Ciri to a class, though.” He taught one of the teens classes every Wednesday night, and he was sure Vesemir wouldn’t mind if he brought Ciri along. 

“I’ll be the safest man in the city.” Jaskier said. “Surrounded by martial artists, no one will ever be able to touch me.” Geralt could not respond, as he was eating pizza, but he did raise his eyebrows. Ciri giggled. 

Geralt knew he was going to hate the movie, and he was not entirely wrong. He did not enjoy watching famous actors pretending like they weren’t in a horrible abomination of CGI, but his dislike of the film itself was tempered by how much joy Ciri and Jaskier got out of it. They screamed at every little action the cats did on screen, and by the time “Midnight” came on they were clutching each other and sobbing. Geralt, who as always had control of the popcorn bowl, chewed a healthy mouthful of kernels and smiled at the crying cat-person on the screen. 

“Geralt, how are you not deeply and incredibly affected by this  _ masterpiece _ ?” Jaskier wheezed through laughs. “Look! Look upon Ian Mckellan!”

“He was  _ drinking milk out of a bowl standing up _ .” Ciri whispered. “Why was he doing that?!” A cat with upsettingly prominent breasts slunk down a set of steps, singing about Macavity. 

“Oh my gods, I can’t watch this. I can’t watch it!” Jaskier squealed, covering his eyes with his fingers spread far apart. Macavity appeared onscreen and, after singing for a moment, threw his trenchcoat off with great aplomb. Ciri and Jaskier shrieked in unison. Geralt automatically threw the hand closest to them over his ear, being careful to not drop the popcorn. 

“Nooooo!” Ciri was on the floor. “Why? Why? Why!?” 

“Ger _ alt! _ ” Jaskier wailed. “Geralt, why is he so  _ naked? _ ”

“I don’t know, Jask.” Geralt sighed, staring at the horrible nude cat on screen. “I don’t know.” Thankfully, the cat redressed himself, and Jaskier calmed down. Ciri remained on the floor in the fetal position. The movie continued on, and when Old Deuteronomy turned to the screen to lecture them on the care and keeping of cats, Jaskier leaned over to take a massive handful of popcorn.

“Gods almighty.” he mumbled through his mouthful. “What did we just witness?”

“I really have no idea.” Geralt admitted. 

“I’m glad we watched that but also I’m so upset.” Ciri declared from the floor. “I don’t know how to feel.” 

“Imagine if we’d seen that in theaters.” Jaskier gazed up at the ceiling. “Wow.” Roach, who had left the room after the second round of screaming, padded back in and hopped up to sit on Geralt’s lap.

“I think I follow the cat rules with you, don’t I?” Geralt said, rubbing him behind the ears. “I treat you like a cat should be treated.” Roach purred and kneaded his thighs. 

“Roach would never pound her paws on the floor and mew instead of clapping.” Jaskier commented, reaching over to give the cat a good scratch at the base of his tail. “She’s a good girl.”

“I’m going to have cat nightmares tonight.” Ciri said. She was still lying on the floor, but now she was flat on her back, her hair spreading in a tangled blond halo across the carpet. “So many cat nightmares.” 

“Me too.” Jaskier moved his hand to Roach’s back, coming very close to touching Geralt’s hand. “Maybe Roachie will come and sleep with me tonight, to protect me. Geralt’s a big strong man, he doesn’t need protection from the dream cats. No he doesn’t, Roach. He does not!”

“Don’t patronize Roach.” Geralt said, batting at Jaskier’s hand. “He’s a big, independant cat.” Jaskier batted him back. Roach wandered off of Geralt’s lap and curled up with her feet on Jaskier’s thigh. 

“Roach loves me.” Jaskier observed. “You may be her dad, but I’m her cool uncle and she comes to me for treats.”

“As long as you don’t try to feed her French vanilla ice cream again.” Geralt said. 

“That was years ago, Geralt. I would never do that.” Jaskier said archly, stroking Roach’s head.

“Can cats even eat ice cream?” Ciri wondered from the floor.

“No, they cannot.” Geralt said with a heavy finality. He glanced at the clock. “It’s time to go to sleep. Some of us have to run tomorrow morning.” Ciri suppressed a yawn.

“I like that idea.” Jaskier said. He picked Roach up and patted Geralt on the head. “Sleep well, and don’t you dare steal the cat from me.” 

“Good niigghhttt.” Ciri warbled.

“Do you want help setting the bed up?” Geralt asked, standing up and cradling the popcorn bowl in his arms. 

“I’ve got it.” Ciri said, smiling. She had certainly changed drastically from the quiet, shy girl of that morning, Geralt thought to himself as he washed the popcorn bowl and put it back in its place. He wondered what had caused her change. All he had done was spend time with her. Maybe that was the secret to good parenting. He continued to ponder this as he brushed his teeth, and as he lay in bed reading. Roach came to snuggle just before he had turned his lights out, probably growing tired of how much Jaskier moved while he slept. Their first apartment had been a horribly small loft, and Geralt had taken months to grow used to the creaking of Jaskier’s mattress.

He was not sure when he woke up, but his room was completely dark, and a thin line of moonlight stretched across the floor. Roach was curled up peacefully at his feet. Geralt wondered what had woken him until he heard the cry from the living room again. It was a vague, mumbled moan, but it was still clearly a person in distress. Geralt was out of bed and hurrying down the hallway before he could clearly process what he was doing. The lights in the main part of the apartment were all off, but Geralt could see Ciri’s outline against the white blankets. She was tossing and turning, whimpering every once and a while. He padded across the floor and knelt beside her bed.

“Ciri.” he whispered. “Ciri, wake up.” She rolled away from him, and he cautiously put a hand on her shoulder. “Ciri.” She mumbled something, then let out another yell and sat bolt upright in bed. 

“Grandma…” she whispered, staring wildly into the darkness. 

“Ciri, it’s OK.” Geralt sat up straighter on his heels. “You’re safe.” She turned towards him, her eyes wide.

“I saw it burning.” she whispered. “Cintra. I see it every night, again and again. It burns.” Geralt stood and sat down on the edge of the bed, next to her. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked carefully. Ciri shook her head and twisted the sheets in her lap.

“I want it to stop.” she whispered. “I don’t want to forget my family, but...I want to forget.” Geralt nodded.

“I know.” he said gently. Abruptly, Ciri turned and buried her face against his chest. Geralt was surprised, but he put his arms around her and stroked her hair. 

“When I dream, I’m back there.” she said, her voice muffled against Geralt. “I’m in the palace, and I can hear the bombs, and the screaming. They destroyed everything, Geralt. Everything. I saw my people burning. They killed my grandma. They killed Eist. They killed everyone. I don’t have anyone anymore. I’m alone.” 

“Not anymore.” Geralt said. “I’m here now. Jaskier is here now. We’re going to look after you. I promise.” Ciri let out a tiny sob, and Geralt rested his forehead on her head. They sat there for a long time, until Ciri untangled herself from Geralt’s arms. She wiped her eyes on the sheet and looked up at him.

“When I...when I was little, my grandma used to read to me when I couldn’t sleep.” she said, her voice back to the tiny little whisper it had been when she had arrived in their lives. “I know...I know I’m older, but…”

“Let me find a book.” Geralt said immediately. He stood and went to the bookshelf. Which of these books was good for a child to hear? It was a jumble of his own high fantasy and extremely specific nonfiction books, and Jaskier’s raunchy pulp fiction and poetry collections. His fingers landed on one of the few books that he and Jask shared a liking for. He had no idea if Ciri would like it, but he could try. He returned to the bed, settled himself into the corner, and flipped to the first page. Ciri curled up around her pillow and watched him as he began to read.

“ It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife…”

\------

Jaskier had a coffee shop gig that Sunday afternoon, and while Geralt was working and Yen was “otherwise occupied”, whatever that meant, Ciri had insisted on coming. She followed him to what passed for the backstage and sat on his amp while he talked to the drummer about the set list. 

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing to his lute case. Out in public, she was much more reserved and skittish, closer to the dripping child who had arrived on their doorstep. 

“It’s a lute.” Jaskier said, opening the case and showing her. “It’s an old instrument, but I like to use it in my songs because I like the way it sounds.” He also liked to show off that he played the lute, but he didn’t need to tell Ciri that. “I play it at the renaissance faire in October, too.” 

“I’ve always wanted to go to a renaissance faire.” Ciri said, pulling her knees up to her chest and leaning her chin on them. “I want to try jousting, or fighting someone with a sword. I think it would be fun.” Jaskier twanged the string of his guitar and nodded.

“That is a thing you can do there.” he said. “Geralt and I have gone every year. I’m sure he could show you around all of that. It’s more of his thing.”

“Does he know how to fight with a sword?” Ciri’s eyes went wide.

“I think so?” Jaskier was not actually sure if Geralt could use the kind of swords they used at the ren faire. “I know he can use a broadsword, like a Chinese one. He swings it around the living room sometimes, when the gym is closed.” 

“Wow.” Ciri seemed to have decided that Geralt was the coolest person in the world, and Jaskier didn’t disagree. He set his guitar aside and began the arduous process of tuning his lute. Ciri reached over and picked up the open set list notebook. “What’s ‘Toss a Coin to My Roommate’?” she asked.

“Oh, that’s a silly song I wrote for Geralt years and years ago.” Jaskier said, adjusting a knob of his lute with intense focus. He played the first chord of the chorus with a cheerfully dissonant twang. “ _ Toss a coin to my roommate, oh valley of plenty, oh valley of plenty, ahahaah! _ ” Ciri cackled. 

“How many of these songs are for Geralt?” she wondered, running her finger down the list. “‘Rainstorm’ sounds cool, and...what’s ‘The Fishmonger’s Daughter’?”

“Oh, nothing. Just a weird song. I don’t know if I’m going to play that tonight.” Jaskier would never be able to forgive himself if he caused a twelve-year-old to start running around singing about fucking. She had been singing songs from  _ Cats _ all day, which was bad enough.

“‘Boy Next Door’ has to be about Geralt.” Ciri said. 

“You are perceptive, aren’t you?” Jaskier tuned the final set of strings and played a quick scale. “Perfect.”

“Anyone who has eyes can tell you’re crazy about him.” Ciri said, tossing the notebook aside. “It’s  _ obvious _ .”

“Hmm.” Jaskier picked up his notebook and tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans. “Is it, now?” 

“Two minutes till showtime, Jask.” Yvonne, the bassist, poked her head around the doorway. 

“Be there in a bit.” Jasker waved. “Why don’t you go find a seat? Here’s…$5 for a baked good,  _ not _ coffee or Geralt will kill me.” He tousled her hair and watched as she hurried into the crowd. “Damn.” he muttered, and slung his guitar over his back. The crowd gathered in front of the small square platform that passed for a stage roared in joy when he appeared, and he bowed flamboyantly to his fans. He could see Ciri carefully balancing a scone on top of what appeared to be a mango smoothie towards the back. 

“All set and ready?” Riley asked from their drum kit. 

“Hell yeah.” Jaskier grinned, set his lute down on the stand waiting for it, plugged his guitar into the amp, and nodded. Riley counted off and they dove straight into music. The crowd cheered, recognizing the opening chords.

“ _ The boy next door, well, I think he’s kind of sexy, _

_ I’d like to take him out, if you know what I mean. _

_ Don’t you know, don’t you know I’m in love with you? _

_ Don’t you know, don’t you know I need you? _

_ Don’t you know, don’t you know I’m in love with you?” _

The song continued like that, listing out different people Jaskier thought were attractive. It was a moderatly goofy song about being bisexual, and people loved it. Record companies had spent the first handful of years after its release clamoring to get Dandelion to sign with them, but Jaskier was resistant. He liked his coffee shop and bar gigs, and he liked having the ability to do whatever the fuck they wanted with music and with their venues. If they wanted to play in the middle of a park for free, they could. Logically, they could still do that if they had a record label, but Jaskier liked the idea of being independent artists who didn’t give a shit. 

The song finished, and the crowd cheered. They had spent the entire song singing along, and Jaskier wondered how they found the voices for all that. 

“Hey y’all,” he said into the microphone, and the crowd cheered again. “We’re Dandelion,” More cheers. “And that was ‘Boy Next Door’.” Even more cheers. “I think you’ll recognize this one.” He winked, and he was pretty sure a handful of people in the front row swooned.

They rolled through the set list with ease. The sheer energy of the singing when he came around to ‘Toss a Coin to My Roommate’ was overwhelming for the level the song really required, but Jaskier was used to that. Years of playing bars had desensitized him to inappropriate scream-singing. The crowd was dead silent for ‘Rainstorm’; it felt as though they were listening to every word he said and processing each one individually. When the chords faded away, it took a long time for the cheering to start up. Jaskier wondered if the people sitting out there understood that he had just thrown his heart down in front of them.

“Tragically, we have to close out with this next song.” he said, and there really was a groan of sadness from the crowd. “However, it’s a good one! Not a Dandelion original, but we thought it would be to close out on, and it is a classic for us.” Another thing they had gotten popular for was acoustic Carly Rae Jepsen songs, which was purely by virtue of Jaskier’s intense love for her music. The crowd went wild as he began to play the opening of ‘Call Me Maybe’. It was a song that reminded him of Geralt, as most love songs tended to, but it was special because he felt like it described how he had fallen for his friend. Every time he sang it when Geralt was in the crowd, he did his best to make flirty eye contact. When he finished out the song, the crowd leapt to its feet in a wave and cheered. They were still going when the band disappeared back into what passed for a dressing room.

“That went well.” Yvonne commented, tucking her bass back into its case. “These coffee shop people are rowdier than the bars sometimes.”

“It’s all the caffeine.” Riley guessed. “Pure espresso, right up the ass.” 

“Ri _ ley _ .” Jaskier groaned. Ciri had just walked in. 

“Well, that looks like our cue to go clubbing.” Yvonne said. “I guess you’re not coming tonight, Jask?”

“Nope. I’m working tomorrow morning.” Jaskier said. 

“Boo.” Riley stuck their tongue out at him.

“He’s a working lad, Riley, don’t shame him for getting the dough to pay the bills.” Yvonne came over and patted Jaskier on the cheek. “Say hello to your boyfriend for us, will you?”

“He is  _ not _ my  _ boyfriend! _ ” Jaskier shrieked after them as his bandmates left the room, cackling. Ciri had been lurking in a corner away from the strangers, but as soon as they were gone she came over, grinning at Jaskier.

“Someday he could be.” she said in a sing-song voice.

“It’s only been two days, Ciri,  _ why  _ are you  _ already _ teaming up against me?” Jaskier groaned.

“It’s for your own good.” Ciri patted his arm and nodded seriously. “I liked your music. It was weird but in a cool way.”

“Thanks.” Jaskier said. He snapped the latches on his guitar case and slung the strap of his lute case over his shoulder. “Are you ready to go home?” 

“Yep.” Ciri said cheerfully, picking up the amp. They walked through the back door of the shop and around to the alley where Jaskier’s beat-up blue car waited. While Jaskier started the car, Ciri scrolled through the radio stations until she found the pop music one. It was having a ‘Throwback Weekend’, and clearly the most throwback song possible they could have played was Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies”. Neither Ciri nor Jaskier minded the radio station’s questionable conception of time, and they spent the entire car ride back to the apartment with the windows down blasting music through the speakers and singing as loud as they possibly could. 

Geralt was watching a movie when they clattered back into the apartment, Ciri panting slightly from having lugged Jaskier’s amp all the way from the parking garage. He paused it and looked over the back of the couch at them.

“How did the show go?” he asked. 

“Just fine.” Jaskier said. “Ciri, you can put the amp in the corner over there, next to the guitar stand.” Ciri followed his instructions, and Jaskier carefully leaned his instruments next to it. 

“What are you watching?” Ciri hopped onto the couch with a dramatic  _ whump _ and sent the remotes bouncing off of the cushion onto the floor. Geralt picked them up and put them on the coffee table.

“ _ The Mystery of Chess Boxing. _ ” he said. “It’s an old movie.” The scene he had paused on showed a pair of men frozen in mid-air, their legs ready to kick each other. 

“How many times have you watched it, Geralt?” Jaskier asked, rummaging through the fridge and emerging with a container of leftover curry and a container of rice. “Four? Five?”

“...ten.” Geralt muttered. Jaskier dumped part of the rice into the curry and came over to the couch, claiming the spot in between Ciri and Geralt. 

“I swear, he practically has the movie memorized at this point.” he commented as Geralt hit play again. They watched the final ten minutes in silence. Jaskier was mostly stopped from talking by his curry, but Ciri was hypnotized. She barely even noticed when Roach left her perch on the back of the couch to sit on Ciri’s lap. When the credits began to roll, Jaskier unfolded himself from the couch and went to wash out his container.

“Can you do all of that?” Ciri asked Geralt excitedly, coming out of her trance state. “That was crazy!”

“I can do some of it.” Geralt said, almost shyly.

“A lot of it.” Jaskier corrected. “I’ve seen you practicing, Geralt, I bet you could do all of that shit.”

“Not all of it.” Geralt turned the TV off and stood up. “Not...not yet.” Ciri started putting her bed together, and Jaskier wandered to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

He woke up in the middle of the night and found that he was terribly thirsty. With a sigh, he dragged himself out of bed and crept to the kitchen. Before he reached the sink, he noticed that Geralt and Ciri were sitting on the bed together. Ciri had her head against Geralt’s shoulder, and Geralt was reading quietly. As softly as he could, Jaskier filled a glass and drank, listening to the gentle rumble of Geralt’s voice. He was reading  _ Pride and Prejudice,  _ and had made sure to give each character a distinctive voice. They were both so focused on the book that they had not noticed Jaskier moving around behind them. Jaskier tip-toed back to bed and went to sleep with a warm feeling curled around his heart.  _ Fuck _ , he really was in love with Geralt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soft dad geralt is the best thing to write ever, as is people having the same visceral reaction to Cats (2019) that I had. I've seen that movie twice now. Please save me from the cats that haunt my dreams.


	4. All that matters is that you're hear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciri and Yennefer meet. Jaskier and Geralt worry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It came to my attention in the middle of the night earlier this week that at the rate I'm posting, I'd have to abruptly stop for several months due to the fact that I'm working in the woods for the summer (as of writing we have yet to close), and so I decided that I'd ramp up my posting! I'll be updating Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday for the next couple of weeks. That means y'all get the whole faster, and I don't have to worry about having enough wifi to regularly post while also being a camp counselor. Hooray! This chapter's title is from "King", which by the way has the wackest music video, please watch it it's so wild. As always, you can find me @tamisnotagirl or @accessiblewitcher on tumblr! Thank you for reading!!!

It took Yennefer until Tuesday afternoon to meet Ciri. After having a horrible realization in the middle of laying cement Sunday evening, Geralt had done a lot of research and figuring out what Ciri had actually learned in Cintra and had come up with an elaborate plan to homeschool her up to the point she would need to be at to successfully enter the school system in September. Ciri was resistant, but with a lot of coaxing she had been convinced that learning was important. When the knock at the door came, Geralt was gently walking Ciri through the concept of factoring. 

“This is stupid.” Ciri grumbled.

“It may be stupid, but you are understanding it.” Geralt said, setting his pencil down and peering through the spyhole. When he saw that it was Yen, he opened the door.

“I saw Jaskier on my way to the shop, and he says you guys have a  _ kid _ now?” she said without any greeting, slipping past him and taking her boots off. “How on earth did that happen?”

“Yennefer, this is Ciri. Ciri, Yennefer de Vengerberg.” Geralt said. “Ciri’s grandmother...put her into my care, and now she lives with us. We’re trying to figure out the legal side of things.” 

“So you have an illegal daughter.” Yennefer summarized. “Interesting. Hello, Ciri.” Ciri waved shyly and stared down at her algebra worksheet. 

“I guess.” Geralt said. Yennefer sat down across from Ciri and examined the papers strewn across the table. 

“Are you homeschooling your illegal daughter?” she asked. 

“Until September.” Geralt said, reclaiming his seat. “OK, Ciri, can you try that problem for me?” Algebra was quite a bit different from kung fu, but Geralt was finding that applying the same teaching concepts worked well. Ciri nodded and wordlessly began to scribble numbers.

“Interesting.” Yennefer watched Ciri writing for a moment. “Do you and Jaskier know anything about raising a child? A girl child, for that matter?”

“I know a little. About teaching.” Geralt said, shuffling papers around. “And I know people with kids who can help.” 

“Vesemir  Gwózdek only has sons, and they’re all grown.” Yennefer said. “Just because he’s your father figure…” 

“He’s not the only person I know with children.” Geralt snapped. “Sorry.” he added, looking down at the floor for a moment. “I didn’t mean to say that so aggressively. A lot of the people who go to Kaer Morhen have kids of all ages.” 

“Ok, I believe you.” Yennefer said. “Really!” she exclaimed when he frowned at her. “I trust you to figure this out.” Ciri pushed her worksheet towards Geralt, and he picked it up to look it over. 

“That looks good.” he said, smiling. “You’re learning this really well, Ciri. Do you want to take a break and get started on history?” Ciri nodded and scurried away.

“Cute kid.” Yennefer commented. “She seems a little skittish.”

“She’s...she lived through a lot.” Geralt said vaguely.

“Interesting.” Yennefer leaned her head on her hand and stared in the direction Ciri had gone. “Where did you say she was from, again?”

“Yennefer, what are you up to?” Geralt folded his arms and stared at his friend. “You sound like you’re scheming.”

“I’m not scheming, I’m just wondering.” Yennefer said. “You’re being cagy about who she is, that’s all. I’ve heard...whispers.”

“Of course you have.” Yennefer had a very close-knit group of college friends that tended to find things out and tell each other. 

“We heard that the Lion Cub of Cintra escaped the flames.” Yennefer’s voice had gotten very quiet. “That Nilfgaard is looking for her. Fringilla Vigo is leading the search.” Geralt stared fixedly at the table.

“You have to swear to never tell anyone this.” he said, still keeping his eyes on the wood. “No one. Not Triss, not Sabrina, no one.” He looked up and, with a great effort of will, stared Yennefer directly in the eyes. “Swear.”

“I swear I will tell no one whatever it is you are about to tell me. I swear it on my life.” Yennefer said. She had grown serious and had dropped her scheming voice. 

“Ciri is Calanthe’s granddaughter. The princess.” Geralt said. “I think, after the banquet all those years ago, Calanthe remembered me and decided that I was the safest person to send Ciri to. We, Jaskier and I, were worried about Nilfgaard coming after her, but I didn’t know Vigo was involved in the hunt.”

“I heard that from Vilgefortz, and he’s rarely wrong.” Yennefer said. “Is it true Darshan Mousesack is dead?”

“I...I haven’t heard anything about that.” Geralt said. “I know what’s in the papers. I assume he is, though. Ciri came here alone, and I’m sure Darshan would have come with her if he were...” 

“The papers.” Yennefer said. “They don’t report the whole story. They never do.” 

“Did you learn that in your political science major?” Geralt asked, a touch of irony coming into his voice.

“The best thing I got out of that major was connections.” Yennefer said. “I thought I was going to be at the right hand of the most powerful kings, influencing every political move they made, and instead I spent a decade of my life dressing up pretty for balls and giggling. And now look at me. Sitting at a kitchen table whispering about rumors I got from my classmates. All of them are making change happen, and here I am.”

“If you hadn’t been thrown away like that, you never would have met me.” Geralt pointed out.

“I suppose.” Yennefer said. They had this conversation at least once a month. Geralt knew that even though she had left her advising days far behind her, and even though she was happy in her new life selling herbs and amulets to weirdos, she had moments when she was angry about the things she could have had that most of her friends had. 

“How is Triss, by the way?” Geralt asked. Triss was the only person of Yennefer’s group that he knew well at all. They had gone through a strange period of having sex and thinking about being in a relationship, and had eventually settled into being friends with an awkward past.

“She’s coming to visit in June.” Yennefer said. “I must have forgotten to tell you. Foltest is giving her a week off for once, bugger the man.”

“I’m glad.” Geralt smiled, and Yennefer squinted at him.

“Don’t you try and drown your feelings with her again, Geralt Riviiowski.” she hissed. “Don’t do that to Jaskier.” Geralt stared at her. 

“Yen...what? When did I ever...never mind.” He sighed. “Yen, it’s been nearly a decade since I did that. I’m still sorry. For both of you. It was a…dick move, to quote Jaskier.” 

“You need to actually follow through with asking him out on a date.” Yennefer said, still on the topic of Geralt’s love life. 

“Yennefer, I don’t know what I’m doing.” Geralt said. “I don’t know...I don’t know.” He raised his hands in a gesture of confusion. 

“You know, even in the unlikely event that he says no, he won’t be mean about it.” Yennefer pointed out. “Even if you do live together. Jaskier is awkward but he’s sweet about it.”

“I know, Yen. I know.” Geralt covered his face with his hands. “I just…”

“If you don’t confess to him by the end of the month, I swear, Geralt Riviiowski, I’m going to fake a love letter and hide it under his pillow.” Yennefer said. 

“Fine, Yen.” Geralt sighed. “I will.” Yennefer patted him on the arm. 

“I’ve got to get back to work, but I’ll see you on Friday for waffles.” she said. “Enjoy teaching.”

“Goodbye.” Geralt watched her walk out of the apartment. As soon as the door had shut behind her, Ciri slipped out of the shadows in the hallway and returned to her seat.

“She’s weird.” she said quietly, setting the history book in between them. “Why was she asking about...me?”

“Yennefer likes to know things.” Geralt explained. “It’s better to make sure she doesn’t spread the things she knows around. Were you listening to that whole conversation?” Ciri nodded.

“I heard you talking about Cintra.” she said, looking down at the textbook. “About Nilfgaard.” 

“We’re not going to let them find you.” Geralt said, reaching over and putting a hand on top of hers. “I promise. Fringilla Vigo, she is clever, but she will never come here. Never. I won’t let her.”

“Will you bash her head in with your big axe thing?” Ciri asked.

“If it comes to that, I will.” Geralt said seriously. He doubted that he would have the kwan dao on hand if Vigo ever came to their apartment, but if Ciri felt safer knowing that he was fully ready to destroy the head of the Nilfgaard army’s intelligence team with a blunt object, that was fine with him. 

“Who is that woman who’s coming to visit? Triss? What did you do with her?”

“So many questions, and none of them about history.” Geralt teased, trying to turn her attention away from the subject of his relationship with Triss. Ciri frowned at him. “Triss is a friend of Yennefer and mine. We...we had a relationship, and it ended. Yennefer can be suspicious sometimes. It dosen’t mean anything. I’m not...it’s nothing.” 

“She thinks you’re going to fuck Triss to stop yourself from moaning about Jaskier.” Ciri said.

“Cirilla!” Geralt exclaimed. 

“What! It’s true!” 

“You don’t need to...never mind.” Geralt sighed. He really did need to talk to Vesemir. His teacher’s sons may have been grown men, but they had been twelve once. “Let’s think about history.” 

“Geralt, you will never believe what happened to me at work today!” The door slammed open, and Jaskier marched into the apartment. Geralt sighed as history was abandoned yet again, and decided to give up on trying to get Ciri to learn for the rest of the day.

\------

“Jaskier.” Geralt pushed the door of Jaskier’s bedroom open and came to sit on the edge of the bed. Jaskier closed his songwriting notebook and tossed it across the bed, where it hit the edge and fell down to the floor. He sat up and crossed his legs. “I need to talk to you.”

“Is playing Minecraft with Ciri taking that much of a toll on you?” he said, noting how serious and worried Geralt’s face was. “Too many...cubes?”

“Yennefer came by before you came home.” Geralt said slowly, studying Jaskier’s knees with great fascination.

“Oh, Yen.” Jaskier said. “What is she up to? Clearly nothing good.” 

“It’s not what she’s up to.” Geralt sighed. “Vilgefortz Chaudhary heard from somewhere that Fringilla Vigo is leading the search for Ciri.” 

“Oh. Oh, fuck.” Jaskier pulled his legs up to his chest. “Why Vigo? Why do they care so much about finding her?”

“She’s a symbol of Cintra.” Geralt said. “If they can destroy all traces of the royal family, there will be nothing for the people to cling on to, and they can feel that they are ruling legitimately. While Ciri is alive, there is a threat to that. She can be used as a figurehead for a rebellion.”

“Damn.” Jaskier ran his fingers through his hair. “So...if Vigo is looking, she’ll definitely find us. She’s vicious, and she won’t stop until she’s found Ciri. What are we supposed to do?” Geralt shrugged. “Yennefer might know something. She went to school with Vigo for four years...well, I guess they learned about politics together, not spying, so I don’t know if Yen would be helpful at all. There has to be something we can do. Can we call the police? No, that wouldn’t work, and they might wonder why a barista and a freelance construction worker are claiming to be hiding the princess of Cintra in their apartment. That might make things worse. What about...no. I don’t know what we’re supposed to do. How are we supposed to do anything?”

“I don’t know.” Geralt said softly. “I don’t know, Jask.” Jaskier stared at the wall of the hallway, listening to the faint Minecraft music floating in from the living room. In the silence, Geralt’s phone buzzing was loud and insistent. He pulled it out of his pocket and frowned. “Hmm.”

“What is it?”

“Yen wants to take Ciri shopping this weekend. She says we’ve ‘been neglecting her needs.’”

“Ciri seems fine with wearing my t-shirts.” Jaskier said. “I’m worried she’s not going to give them back, though, so I suppose shopping will be a good idea.” 

“Hmm.” Geralt typed out a message, then slipped his phone back into his jeans. “Oh, Triss Merigold is coming to visit. In June.” 

“Good, we have a few months to prepare for her grand arrival.” Jaskier said. “Maybe she’ll know something. She’s worked for Foltest for so long, maybe she’s picked up some sneaky spying tips.” 

“Maybe.” Geralt cracked a wry smile. “I’ll let you get back to your writing.”

“Enjoy your cubes.” Jaskier said, flopping onto his stomach and reaching down for his notebook.

“Don’t talk about the cubes in front of Ciri.” Geralt said from the doorway. “She is insistent that it’s not just about cubes.” Jaskier chuckled. As soon as the door had shut behind Geralt, he rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. 

“Goddamnit.” he muttered. “Fucking  _ Fringilla Vigo _ . Fuck.” If Yennefer didn’t know what to do about Vigo, then Triss probably wouldn’t. Despite being the only member of her extended college circle that wasn’t currently involved in politics or the intelligence services, Yennefer tended to know more about the inner workings of courts and country function than her peers. She was analytical, and she listened to everything that was said on the news. Jaskier had been deeply afraid of her when he had first met her, and finally reaching friendship had not changed that one bit. It was good that she had become content with her life outside of politics. Jaskier often wondered how she had managed to get shoved to the side during her decade as an advisor. It must have been bad luck. 

Geralt was working late that night. It happened sometimes; a project took longer than planned, or Geralt got way too involved in putting things together and lost track of time, or whoever had hired him had absurdly specific time desires. In this case, it was the latter. 

“What kind of person asks to have a porch redone while they’re sleeping? A vampire?” Ciri wondered over dinner, stabbing her fork into her chicken. 

“Sometimes people like to listen to hammers while they drift off.” Jaskier said, keeping his face straight.

“And sometimes people work night shifts and want people to come while they’re out.” Geralt said. “They call me for those, because I don’t mind working at night.” 

“Because you’re a vampire.” Ciri said. “You wear all black, and you’re spooky…”

“I am not spooky!”

“And you like to sit in the dark.” 

“Sometimes the light is too much.”

“Geralt, you’re not making your case.” Jaskier said. “Maybe you are a vampire and you’re just trying to throw us off our rhythm.” Geralt scowled at him and angrily ate a green bean. 

“I think Yennefer is also a vampire.” Ciri said thoughtfully. “She’s actually spooky, and she’s goth, and she looks like she would drink people’s blood.”

“I agree with that.” Jaskier said. “If Yen could be a vampire, I bet she would be.” Geralt considered this.

“Hmm.” he said, noncommittally. “Maybe.”

“She’s scary.” Ciri said seriously. “I don’t like her.”

“You’ll learn to like her.” Jaskier said. “I certainly did.”

“It only took you five years.” Geralt muttered to his plate. 

“That’s not important!” Jaskier protested. “I liked her eventually, that’s all that matters. She can come off as intense, but she has a good heart. Somewhere.” Geralt kicked him in the foot. 

“She’s been a good friend of mine for a long time, and I know she was...a lot this afternoon, but she’s not always like that.” he said to Ciri. 

“What did she  _ do _ ?” Jaskier asked. 

“We were talking about...what we talked about today.” Geralt said. “Yennefer has opinions, and she made them known.” 

“Opinions about…” Ciri began, a mischievous grin spreading across her face, but Geralt gave her a look and she shut her mouth, focusing on her chicken. 

“Oh, I see.” Jaskier nodded. “She has days like that at least once a month, but most of the time she isn’t aggressively ambitious. Usually she’s just normal ambitious.” 

“She was a political advisor for a long time, but she decided she wasn’t happy doing that anymore and decided to open an occult shop.” Geralt said to Ciri. 

“A...what’s occult?” Ciri asked.

“Witchy stuff.” Jaskier said, tearing a roll in two and slathering butter all over it. “Herbs, charms, amulets, incense. Stuff like that.”

“She really is a vampire.” Ciri’s eyes had gone wide. 

“We really aren’t selling Yen as a normal human being, are we?” Jaskier commented. Geralt shook his head and sighed. They finished their dinner, the conversation wandering away from Yennefer and her potential lack of humanity, and Geralt left for work. Ciri returned to her Minecraft, and Jaskier decided to leave her to her own devices. He had been absorbed in playing his guitar for at least an hour and a half when there was a knock at his door. He looked up to see Ciri standing there in her pajamas, a book in her arms. A glance at the clock told Jaskier that he had in fact been playing for four hours, and that it was now nearly eleven-thirty. 

“I can’t sleep.” Ciri announced. “Will you read to me? Geralt always does.” Jaskier put his guitar aside and slid off of the bed. 

“Of course,” he said. Ciri led the way to Geralt’s bedroom and retrieved  _ Pride and Prejudice _ from the neat stack of books on his bedside table, then marched back to the living room and settled herself down on the bed. Jaskier took the book from her and flipped to the page the bookmark was stuck. They had read through a significant amount of the book for having only been reading for a few days. He tucked himself into the corner of the bed and began to read. He had only read the first paragraph when Ciri interrupted.

“You have to do a voice.” she said. “Mrs. Bennet can’t sound like  _ you _ . She has to sound like, like, ‘ _ Oh hello, I think my daughters need to get married to rich men because I don’t know what love really is!’ _ You know, like that.” Jaskier laughed at her ridiculous voice.

“All right.” he said. “I don’t know if I’ll be as good as Geralt. He’s really good at imitating people.” 

“I’ll forgive you if it isn’t as good.” Ciri said. Jaskier raised an eyebrow, but cleared his throat and put on a high, screechy voice that was as good a copy of Ciri’s Mrs. Bennet voice as he could get. Ciri giggled and scooted across the bed to read the book over his shoulder.

\------

It was nearly three in the morning when Geralt wandered blearily up the stairs and into the apartment. The lamp in the living room was still on, and he barely acknowledged it when he first walked in and took his boots off. However, once he had shed his jacket and was padding down to his bedroom, it clicked that the light was on, and he went to turn it off. He paused when he was passing Ciri’s bed. Jaskier and Ciri were fast asleep, Jaskier’s head leaning on top of Ciri’s. There was a book lying open on Jaskier’s lap, and Geralt knew it was  _ Pride and Prejudice.  _ Geralt stood there, a warmth growing in his chest. They looked so much like a father and his daughter, both tired out from a long book read. 

“Jask.” Geralt brushed Jaskier’s shoulder with his hand, knowing that it would be in vain. Jaskier was an absurdly heavy sleeper. In their loft, there had been many times when Geralt had dropped tools or, once, an entire box of bricks, and Jaskier had never woken up. He had even slept through a fire alarm, and it had taken Geralt throwing him over his shoulder and running down seven flights of stairs to wake him up. This would be a lost cause for sure. 

Geralt picked up the book and placed it on the coffee table, being sure to tuck the bookmark back in its place. He tucked Ciri back into bed, then scooped Jaskier up in his arms and carried him down the hall. Jaskier shifted slightly and nestled his head into Geralt’s shoulder, mumbling something unintelligible. Geralt could not help smiling goofily. He had often wanted desperately to hold Jaskier, to pick him up in those moments when he refused to do things as if he were a stubborn cat, but a quiet terror that such actions would immediately reveal his intentions stopped him. As he tipped Jaskier into bed and pulled the blankets neatly over him, Jaskier curled his hand around Geralt’s wrist.

“...G’ralt…” he mumbled. “...don’t forget the...soup…” Geralt slipped his hand out of Jaskier’s loose grip and brushed a scrap of hair out of his eyes. Jaskier mumbled something else and rolled over, pulling the blankets close around him. Geralt shut the door quietly and leaned against it, staring at the painting of cats that hung on the hallway’s wall. 

“What the fuck and I doing?” he asked the cats. “Damnit.” Yennefer was right, but he didn’t know how he was supposed to follow through with asking Jaskier out when he had been avoiding that question for nearly a decade. He got ready for bed and fell asleep turning over and over in his mind the feeling of Jaskier’s fingers brushing against his wrist.


	5. The colours of my life begun to pour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt is mocked by the people who love him. Ciri and Yen plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's chapter title is from 'Marbles', which is one of my favorite TAD songs! This chapter was fun to write because while I've only really experienced the other witchers in the beginning chapters of the first book, I have experienced the dynamics of the black belts at my kung fu school, so I drew most of my characterization of them from that. As always, you can find me on tumblr @tamisnotagirl or @accessiblewitcher! Thank you so much for reading!!

They fell into a routine, and the days rolled into weeks. Ciri went to the teens’ kung fu classes with Geralt and practiced her material almost every day. She came with him to conditioning classes and sat on the side of the kwoon watching the adults kicking bags and sweating. The other black belts took her under their wings almost immediately. Eskel Gwózdek in particular adopted her as his special trainee and spent his water breaks talking to her about video games or the latest movie she had watched. Ciri was lucky to be the only white belt in her class and got plenty of one-on-one attention from whoever was teaching the class. She was quiet around the other kids, and tended to be Geralt’s shadow when they were in the lobby, but while she was doing her forms she was in her element. 

“You really should be proud of her.” Vesemir commented at the beginning of Ciri’s third week. “She’s progressing faster than most kids her age.”

“It’s a good way for her to get her energy out.” Geralt said, watching Ciri slam an invisible opponent’s elbow with intense concentration. “It helps her channel all her bad emotions into something productive.” He and Ciri had started adding meditation to their nighttime reading routine, and while Ciri still squirmed and grumbled, she was starting to get into it. 

“That’s why I wanted my boys to start.” Vesemir said. “Even if some of them complained more than I would have liked at first.” He raised an eyebrow at Lambert, who was practicing spear in the parking lot behind the gym. 

“Lambert just likes to complain.” Eskel said, stepping off of the mat and taking a healthy swig from his water bottle. He was followed by a gaggle of variously sized teenagers, who disappeared into the lobby, chattering. Ciri trailed behind them and grabbed her water bottle from where it sat next to Geralt’s gear bag.

“How are your katas coming along?” Vesemir asked her when she returned to lurk behind Geralt.

“They looked great from here.” Geralt said, ruffling her hair. Ciri grinned.

“I keep getting four and seven mixed up.” she said. “But I’ve been practicing at home.”

“I bet Roach likes that.” Eskel commented. “I’m sure she loves it that there’s a kid jumping around and yelling in her special space now.”

“Roach loves me.” Ciri declared, folding her arms. “I’m her favorite.”

“I think Geralt will always be her favorite.” Vesemir said. “That cat never lets anything come between her and her dad’s lap.” 

“She still loves you, even if she loves me more.” Geralt teased. “She can never love you as much as she loves me.” He received a jab in the stomach for that. 

“Now, now. No violence off the mats.” Eskel chided. “And it’s been far too long for a water break. You’re all slackers!” he called into the lobby. The remaining handful of students still clustered around the water tumbled back into the kwoon, giggling. Eskel followed his flock, cuffing a few on the backs of the head. Ciri trotted after them, her belt bouncing with the movement of her feet, and Geralt smiled to himself. He was proud of her, almost as if she had been his daughter for her entire life. 

“Fatherhood’s made you sappy, hasn’t it?” Lambert thumped him in the shoulder as he passed.

“Fuck you, Lambert.” Geralt whacked him in the stomach. “I am allowed to be proud of my kid, aren’t I?”

“No love. This is the gym where we train warriors, and any love has to get beaten out.” Lambert said. “No pride, only blood and sweat and tears.”

“This is why Master Vesemir won’t let you teach the teens.” Geralt said, prodding his friend in the side. “You’d be too much for them. And don’t say it’s because you’re too strong again.”

“I wasn’t going to.” Lambert pouted. “Master Wiater kicked my ass last time I said that.” Master Wiater was almost a seventh-degree black belt and taught the kids and toddler classes. She was also very strong and quick and had destroyed every adult black belt at Kaer Morhen multiple times. The only person safe from her fiendish powers was Vesemir, and only because he was her teacher.

“Master Wiater loves an excuse to beat people up.” Geralt said. “Do you want to go practice self defense? You are testing soon.”

“Fine.” Lambert said. “Don’t sweep me so hard this time.”

“I make no promises.” Geralt said, smiling, and Lambert glared at him. They went until the teens started sparring, which was always fun to watch. It also meant that the tai chi class was coming in, and both men liked getting a chance to socialize with other students. 

“Look at her go.” Lambert said as Ciri drove an older blue belt down the length of the gym with her kicks.

“Hmm.” Geralt wondered quietly if he ought to talk to Vesemir about switching Ciri into the adult class. She was exceptionally aggressive during sparring. in a way that many of the teens were not. He supposed that since she wasn’t physically kicking anyone at the present moment, it should be fine. Unlike many other aggressive preteens, Ciri knew how to respect shadow sparring rules. The kids sparred for a few more minutes, during which Ciri chased half of the class around the kwoon, despite Eskel’s efforts to get the other kids to be more aggressive.

“You should try and spar down.” Geralt commented as they walked back to the car. “It doesn’t help other kids learn if you try and drive them into walls all the time.”

“They need to go faster.” Ciri grumbled. “I want to go fast, and it’s not my fault no one can keep up with me.” 

“Learning to go slow is important.” Geralt said. “You learn your best techniques going slow. We can do some stance exercises tomorrow when we run to the park. They’re very helpful.” 

“That sounds boring.” Ciri grumbled, but Geralt knew that she would accept his instruction when it came down to it. They climbed into the car, and Ciri selected a radio station. ‘Call Me Maybe’ was playing, and Ciri immediately turned the volume up. Geralt, who had grown desensitized to people playing incredibly loud music near him–he suspected that he was going deaf because of Jaskier's music choices–absently bobbed his head along to the song while Ciri sang along, the words occasionally going mushy when she wasn’t sure of the words. 

“Hey, Geralt?” she said suddenly as the song faded out and a DJ came on. Geralt turned down the volume. 

“Hmm?”

“Why haven’t you asked Jaskier out? Yennefer says that you’ve known each other for decades and that you’ve been in love with him for at least half of that.” 

“Yen says a lot of things.” Geralt said vaguely. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ciri frown at him, and he sighed. “Yen is right. Jaskier and I have known each other for over twenty years at this point, and I have been romantically interested in him for just about seven, maybe eight years. Longer than that, maybe. I don’t really know.” They pulled up to a stop light, and Geralt turned to Ciri. “Love in the real world is more complicated than they make it seem on TV, Ciri. It gets mixed up, and sometimes you don’t recognize what it is until you think it’s too late. Or you think you love someone but you really just wanted to be friends. Or you’ve been friends with someone for so long that the kind of love you feel for them gets mixed up. It’s never seeing someone for the first time and knowing immediately, I love them. Sometimes you’ve seen someone every day of your life and you realize you’re really in love with them at the strangest moments.” The light changed to green, and they continued along the road. Ciri seemed to be thinking.

“When did you realize you were in love with Jaskier?” she asked finally. Geralt studied the road passing by them for a moment, wondering how he could best explain this to Ciri.

“We had a fight.” he said finally. “It was a long time coming, I think. I had been dating Yen for a year. Yen and I, we were….we were struggling as individuals, and we were not in a good place to be dating each other, and things didn’t work out. I think that if we had known where to look for things to help us, we would have figured things out, but we were stubborn.” They pulled up to another stop light, and Geralt sighed. “We had a bad break up. I was keeping things from Yen that I shouldn’t have been, and she got angry, and I got angry, and we left it at that.”

“But you figured it out.” Ciri interrupted. “You’re friends now.”

“We grew up.” Geralt said. “We figured things out, and we apologized, and we forgave each other. But when that happened, I was keeping things from people and lashing out when they tried to help me, and...I hurt Jaskier. Not physically,” he said quickly when Ciri stared at him, her mouth open in horrified shock. “I got angry at him for no real reason, and I said things to him that I really didn’t mean. But I hurt his feelings. I hurt them badly, and he left, and we didn’t see each other for a year after that.” 

“Wow.” Ciri whistled. “I can’t imagine that at all. You guys, fighting enough to have a friendship break-up?” 

“It happened.” Geralt said. He concentrated on the road, rubbing his hands over the texture of the steering wheel.

“What happened next? It can’t end there.” Ciri protested. “You can’t have just said, wow I made my best friend hate me, I think I love him. That’s not how that works. Anyway, you’re friends again.” 

“Jask went to another city.” Geralt continued. “Yennefer moved across town and refused to talk to me on the rare occasions we passed on the street. It was just me and Roach. The second Roach, anyways.”

“Do you keep naming your cats Roach?” 

“Of all the things Yen and Jaskier have told you about me, they failed to mention that I name all of my cats the same thing?” Geralt shook his head. “I’m disappointed in them.” He steered the car around a roundabout. “Roach and I spent about six months alone in that apartment, then I moved to this city. I knew Jaskier was here, and I...I told myself I wasn’t looking for him, but really I was. I bought this apartment, and I started getting jobs, and I spent a lot of time going to bars and coffee shops and sitting in corners, praying that I would get lucky and wander into a performance of his.”

“You spent months looking for him and pining and you didn’t realize you were in love?” Ciri seemed incredulous. “Geralt, come on.”

“Ciri, this was eight years ago. What are you expecting from me?” Geralt smiled at her. “It turned out I didn’t need to look. We found each other accidentally, on the street. I heard him calling my name, and I realized.” He shrugged. “We forgave each other almost immediately. I think Jaskier wanted to slap me, and I know I had a long speech that I had been planning since about an hour after he walked out of the door, but in the end we didn’t do any of that. We just...we just hugged, and that was enough.”

“Huh.” Ciri considered this. “And then you waited eight years to do anything about it. Why have you been waiting?”

“I don’t know.” Geralt said.

“Are you afraid?” The question was so direct that it took Geralt a moment to consider it. Was he afraid?

“I...I guess I might be.” he said. “It’s scary, changing the way a relationship works. Even if he dosen’t reciprocate, it still changes how he sees me. It puts the things I’ve said to him and done for him into a different perspective.” 

“I don’t think you need to be scared.” Ciri said seriously. “I think Jaskier likes you back. Have you  _ listened _ to his songs?” 

“Yes, yes I have.” Geralt pulled the car into the parking garage and slowed down, flicking the headlights on. “I know Yen thinks half of them are about me–”

“Because they  _ are _ .”

“–but Jaskier writes a lot of love songs, and not all of them are as personal as they sound.”

“He wrote about someone running in the rain. You run in the rain. It’s obvious, Geralt.” 

“Jaskier likes to take images from his life.”

“Images like being in love with you.” 

“You and Yen have been spending far too much time together.” Geralt eased the car into their designated parking space and turned off the ignition. “Maybe they are about me. I don’t know for certain,” He ignored Ciri’s huff of frustration, “And that means it’s a big unknown, asking him out. We also live together, and if he says no we still have to live together and deal with whatever the aftermath of that is.” They got out of the car and went to the elevator. Generally, Geralt liked to take the stairs, but they had just finished a day of classes, and he felt that they deserved the elevator. 

“You’ve gotten over worse than one of you being in love with the other.” Ciri said. “You’re still friends after moving to different cities to get away from each other. That’s a lot bigger than, ooh I love you and I want to date you.” 

“You’re right.” Geralt punched the button and they waited patiently for the elevator. 

“Are you going to ask him out?” Ciri asked. 

“You know, Yennefer has been begging me to ask him out for the past four years.” Geralt said thoughtfully. “She’ll be pissed to know that a girl we’ve known for barely a month finally convinced me.” 

“Maybe I was meant to be here.” Ciri said. “You needed me to help you figure it out.” 

“People linked by destiny will always find each other.” Geralt said thoughtfully.

“Do you believe in destiny?” Ciri asked. The elevator pinged, and they stepped inside. 

“I don’t know.” Geralt said, pressing the button for the sixth floor. “I think so. Destiny keeps bringing the people that are most important to me back, even when I leave them behind, even when they run away from me.”

“Maybe it was destiny that got me out of Cintra.” Ciri murmured. “Destiny kept me safe and brought me here.” 

“Maybe.” Geralt said. Ciri stepped closer to him and took his hand. “If it did, I’m glad it did. Jaskier and Yen and I are lucky to have you.”

“Hmm.” 

“Are you mocking me, Cirilla?” Ciri grinned up at Geralt, and he shook his head. The doors opened, and they walked back to the apartment hand in hand. 

\------

Every Thursday, Geralt and Jaskier’s work schedules coincided, and Ciri was handed over to Yennefer for school. It was a day that she had dreaded. She was still intimidated by Yennefer and spent most of their tutoring sessions eyeing her out of the corner of her eyes and mumbling responses. After her conversation with Geralt on the way back from kung fu, however, Ciri was determined to get information out of Yennefer. She was planning out a way to convince Geralt to ask Jaskier out, and she was certain that Yennefer would be able to help her.

“All right, Ciri, what have you been working on?” Yennefer asked, leaning back in her chair and regarding Ciri’s sack of books and papers. “Geralt said I should make you practice quadratic equations, and I think that’s what we’ll do.”

“Do we have to?” Ciri grumbled. She hated quadratics.

“Do you want to be ready to go to school again in September?” Yennefer asked. Ciri sighed and flipped through her algebra book to the quadratic page. 

“This is what we were working on.” She pointed to a diagram explaining how to complete a square. Yennefer nodded thoughtfully and tapped the box of practice problems with her finger. Her nails were painted black, and Ciri could see little flecks of glitter in the polish. She wanted her nails to look like that. She picked up her pencil and began to work her way through the problems while Yennefer watched her. Ciri finished and pushed the textbook towards Yennefer.

“Very good.” Yennefer said after reading her way through Ciri’s writing. “You do understand this.”

“Geralt just wants me to understand it extremely extremely well.” Ciri said. “But I know how to do it, so what’s the point of doing it a lot?”

“That is the great mystery of life, isn’t it?” Yennefer said. “Do you know how to do the things on the other page? Those look more complicated.” Ciri began to work her way through them.

“How did you and Geralt start dating?” she asked after finishing the first two problems, looking up from her page and staring at Yennefer. Her tutor–babysitter?–seemed surprised at this question.

“How did we start dating?” she repeated slowly. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious.” Ciri said nonchalantly. “You don’t seem like people who would ever date, is all.”

“People who are very different indeed can fall in love.” Yennefer said. “We met and we felt a connection, and we just started...seeing each other.” There was something strange about the way she said the last part of her sentence. Ciri suspected it was her way of avoiding telling a twelve-year-old that she and Geralt’s relationship had been sexual at first. 

“How did you meet?” she asked, putting her pencil down. She had no intention of doing her math now that she had started to gain information.

“You are curious.” Yennefer raised one perfectly lined eyebrow. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing!” Ciri exclaimed, a little too loudly. Volume control be damned, she wanted to know how Geralt’s last relationship had started so she could figure out a way to engineer his next one. Yennefer smiled. 

“All right. We met about nine, maybe ten, years ago. Jaskier got in an...accident...and I was at the...club they were at, and I helped him out.”

“Did he fall off of a stool or something?”

“That’s not important.” Yennefer said airily. “You want to know about how Geralt and I met, not about the foolish things Jaskier gets up to.” 

“I want to know about the foolish things Jaskier gets up to, too.” Ciri pointed out. “So it was just that simple? You had a chance meeting in a bar and you saw each other and felt a connection?”

“Sometimes it’s just like that.” Yennefer said.

“Geralt said it’s not always.”

“Geralt has taken a long time to figure out his feelings this time around.” Yennefer said. “I think I’ve known he was interested in Jaskier long before he ever even considered romantic love as an option.” 

“He said you dated for a year and then broke up nastily, and then Jaskier left, and then he figured it out.” Ciri said cautiously. “So you’ve known for a year more than he has.”

“Approximately.” Yennefer said. “I’m glad you can do addition.” Ciri scowled at her, and Yennefer laughed gently. “I’ve known Jaskier is in love with Geralt for as long as I’ve known Jaskier.”

“It’s not hard to tell that.” Ciri said, and Yennefer laughed again.

“You know more than our beloved Mr. Riviiowski.” she said. “Yes, Jaskier wears his heart on his sleeve, and his guitar, and his lute, but Geralt is hard to figure out. I think I figured that out halfway into our year of dating.”

“Then why didn’t you break up with him?” Ciri asked accusingly, glaring at Yennefer. She was willing to believe that Yennefer had purposefully driven Geralt away from Jaskier.

“Sometimes you fall in love with two people at once.” Yennefer shrugged. “I knew that Geralt loved me, and I knew he loved Jaskier. Those things were not immutable.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“It means you can’t change it.”

“But how does that work? How did you know he loved you?”

“Because he showed it.” Yennefer pulled Ciri’s textbook towards herself and began to check over the handful of problems she had completed. “I know when a man is lying to me. That’s an important skill to learn.”

“Where were you a political advisor?” Ciri asked, remembering abruptly what Yennefer’s previous occupation had been.

“Aedirn.” Yennefer said shortly. “I was there for about ten years before I left.”

“Why did you leave?” 

“Why don’t you do your math work?” Yennefer fired back, pushing the textbook back towards Ciri. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped like that.” she added, her eyes losing the fire they had been filled with. “You were only asking.”

“It’s OK.” Ciri had pulled her shoulders up, ready to argue with Yennefer. Tentatively, she picked up her pencil and returned to her math. 

“I was being used for useless tasks instead of assisting to run the kingdom.” Yennefer said abruptly. “I was nothing more than a pawn to stand and look pretty at press conferences. The king never listened to me, and I was slowly regulated to nothing more than a well-paid assistant to the queen. So I quit.”

“Wow.” Ciri stared at Yennefer. “Why did they do that to you?” 

“Because the king was a fucking asshole.” Yennefer said, slapping the table and causing Ciri to jump in alarm. “Geralt would kill me if he knew I was cursing in front of you, but you’re twelve. You know curse words.” 

“‘Course I know curse words.” Ciri said, tossing her head haughtily. 

“Of course,” Yennefer corrected. “You’re a princess, you’re going to need to talk like a princess. Even if you’re not a princess right now.”

“I’m not going to be a princess anymore.” Ciri said, growing serious. “Cintra is part of Nilfgaard. That’s not going to change. I’ve lost everything.”

“You haven’t lost everything.” Yennefer said. “You still have a family.” Ciri opened her mouth, but Yennefer held up a hand. “We’re your family now, or at least we’ll try to be. Even if you hate me, I’m still part of your family. Geralt and Jaskier are my family, so you’re stuck with me by proxy.”

“What does that mean?”

“Indirectly. Maybe we need to switch to English.”

“Nooo!”

“All right. Can you finish that page for me?” 

“Yes, Yennefer!” As Ciri began to complete her math problems, she thought quietly that Yennefer was not as bad and scary as she had thought. Geralt was right. She felt bad for the previous Thursdays, when she had refused to talk unless asked direct questions, and for the Saturday Yennefer had taken her clothes shopping. It had been a miracle Ciri had managed to communicate the things she wanted, as she had been hell bent on not speaking a word to Yennefer. Ciri finished the last problems and passed the book back to Yennefer.

“Very good. You’re really good at this math thing, did you know that?” Yennefer said, checking off the last question.

“Grandma always said that.” Ciri said. “She said that if I wasn’t a princess I could be an astrophysicist with my math brain.” 

“I wouldn’t jump that far ahead.” Yennefer said. “This is just algebra. Wait until you get to calculus before you start thinking about astrophysics. All right. Do you want to move on to the next lesson?” Ciri turned the page, and they began moving through the concept of transforming palaboras. 

“Yennefer?” Ciri asked a few minutes later as they were moving into the practice questions. “Do you have a plan for making Geralt and Jaskier get together?”

“I’ve been trying to think of one for years now.” Yennefer sighed. “It’s impossible. Geralt is too stubborn and too anxious to even think of anything, and I don’t know what Jaskier is doing. I think he’s been operating under the assumption that Geralt isn’t interested for the past, I don’t even know how long Jaskier’s been interested. Probably forever, knowing him. He’s a romantic.”

“He writes about Geralt, and Geralt still hasn’t figured it out.” Ciri observed.

“Geralt is a dumbass.” Yennefer said affectionately. “He always has been, and he always will be. I love the man, but sometimes he refuses to see what’s right in front of him.”

“I think we need to make them go out for dinner together.” Ciri said thoughtfully. “That’s what people do for first dates in movies.”

“That could work.” Yennefer said. “Except they have dinner together every night.” 

“But this would be a  _ romantic  _ dinner. At a fancy restaurant.” Ciri clarified. “That’s how dates  _ work _ .” Yennefer cracked a small smile, and Ciri thought that she was probably being patronized. 

“That is a good idea.” she said. “With one small problem. I don’t know if they would be willing to spend that much money on just dinner. Not everyone can just up and go on a fancy dinner date.” 

“Oh.” Ciri realized that she had not considered this and stared down at the table, studying the grain. An idea came to her, and she looked up with a grin. “We could make them a fancy dinner at home! I know how to cook, a little bit.” She could mostly cook French toast and things that came in boxes with simple instructions, but that was not important.

“That would be cute.” Yennefer said. “You can do a lot with something simple, like a chicken.” 

“But when?” Ciri wondered. “Jaskier works all day on weekends, and I think he has a gig on Saturday…”

“Sunday.” Yennefer suggested. “Sunday is good. None of us work regular 9-5 jobs, and you don’t have school, so it’s fine to do things like that on Sundays. You’ll learn, Ciri, that none of the adults in your life have had typical job schedules.” 

“Sunday is good.” Ciri said. “That gives us time to plan.” She cackled, and Yennefer laughed with her. “Do you still want to do the English stuff?”

“No.” Yennefer said. “I think we deserve a break. Do you want to watch Netflix?”

“Only if we watched  _ Nailed It. _ ” Ciri said. “I like making fun of the bakers.” Yennefer smiled.

“That’s my girl.” she said. They left the counter strewn with textbooks and settled onto the tiny couch to forget about math for a few hours.


	6. All it took to unearth in the dust and dirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt has a bad day and a revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: canon-typical violence, gun-based violence, gun-related injury, beginning after "He was about to cross the street towards the final block before the park when he heard it." and continuing to the end of the chapter
> 
> Today's title is from 'Battle Cries'. You can find me on tumblr @tamisnotagirl and @accessiblewitcher! Thank you for reading!! I appreciate it and you :)

The moment Geralt got into the car after work that Friday, he pressed his forehead into the steering wheel and tried to hold back the urge to scream. He was parked on a city street. Someone would hear him and think he was being murdered, and if one more person talked to him he would commit a murder. 

“Fuck.” he said to his dusty boots. “Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck _ .” It had been a bad day. No, not a bad day. It had been an abominable day. The job he had been working had kept going wrong. The cement was always slightly wrong, there was part of a bog underneath one of the corners that kept making the foundation sink, the tiles for the floor had been wrong. He had no idea how many times part of the roof had fallen down. Thankfully it had never fallen on a person, but it had still been frustrating, especially since they were trying to build a goddamn house. The other workers had been just as frustrated, but too many of them had tried to help Geralt do things that he just wanted to be left alone to do himself, and there had also just been too many other people. Geralt had barely said two words together the whole afternoon. It had been too much work.

He pressed his head against the steering wheel for a few more moments, trying to force his thoughts into something that didn’t resemble static. Finally, he felt together enough to drive, and he stuck the keys in the ignition. A pop song he didn’t recognize came blaring through the speakers, and he smacked the power button so hard an indent appeared on his palm. Rubbing his hand over his thigh, Geralt carefully pulled the car into traffic and began the long trek home. It was a lucky thing barely anyone else was driving on his side of the road, because he was driving completely on autopilot. If someone had tried to cross the street in front of him, he would have hit them and kept on driving without even noticing anything different had occurred. The only thought on his mind was getting home and locking himself in his bedroom until it was time to eat. Mindlessly, he pulled the car into the parking garage and wandered into the elevator. 

Geralt could hear the guitar from halfway down the hallway, and he silently cursed. On a normal day, he would be happy to hear Jaskier playing and only grumble out of habit, but today he would have paid money to be able to destroy Jaskier’s instrument without feeling horrible about it. He fumbled the key, dropped it on the ground, and cursed very loudly. The guitar playing stopped, and the door was opened by a concerned Jaskier.

“Geralt, are you–” Geralt cut him off with an irritated grumble and stalked into the apartment, leaving his roommate standing by the door with a confused expression on his face. He disappeared into his bedroom and toed his boots off, kicking them into the corner.

“Is Geralt OK?” he heard Ciri asking on the other side of the wall.

“I don’t know.” He knew Jaskier’s eyebrows were creasing together, his whole face crumpling into a worried expression. “He must have had a bad day at work.” 

“Should we go check on him?”

“It’s better if we give him a moment. He’ll just be angry if we talk to him now.” Geralt rifled through his drawers to find clean clothes and marched into the bathroom to shower. The hot water pounding on his body did little to calm the angry frustration boiling over inside of him. He wanted to scream into the water, but if he did that Jaskier would know for certain he was having an awful day and would come into the bathroom and try to talk to him about it. Right now, Geralt didn’t want to talk to anyone. He knew Jaskier understood that, but sometimes Jaskier forgot things like that. He dried his hair off roughly and pulled his brush through it, staring himself in the eyes. He hated when he got like this, but it wasn’t something he knew how to control. He had tried deep breathing, mindfulness, everything, but sometimes it all fell apart and he was left with his overwhelming anger. He pulled his shirt on, absently tied his hair into a loose bun, and strode back to his bedroom without glancing towards the living room. As soon as the door shut behind him, he sprawled onto his bed and buried his face in the pillows, letting out a muffled scream.

He was not sure how long he lay there. At some point, the door creaked open a crack, and Roach hopped up on the bed and sat on Geralt’s back, purring like crazy. She was followed by someone sitting on the edge of the mattress. He knew it was Jaskier. He would have known it was Jaskier even if he had not been expecting him. He supposed that really did mean he was in love with him. 

“Geralt?” The question was tentative. Geralt grumbled into his pillow. “That answers that question, then.” Jaskier sat there quietly for a moment. “Do you want to talk about it? Whatever it is?” Geralt growled again, and felt a gentle hand brushing against his calf. “I’ll come get you for dinner, OK?” The weight lifted from the bed, the door closed with a gentle click, and Geralt was left alone with the cat. He sat up, dislodging Roach, and picked up the cat. Her fur was soft against his face, and he breathed in her scent. She tolerated his hold for a moment, then wriggled out of his grasp and padded across the bed to sit loaf-like on the end, her tail twitching lazily across the covers. Geralt undid his bun and ran his fingers through his hair, pulling the damp strands over his face. He sat like that for a moment, untangling each individual strand with a methodical concentration. He was tying his hair back up when there was a tentative knock on the doorframe and Jaskier poked his head around the door. 

“Are you ready for dinner?” he asked, leaning his head against the wall and studying Geralt with concern in his eyes. Geralt shrugged, tucked a stray strand behind his ear, and stalked after Jaskier to the dining room. It was one of the first completely silent dinners they had had since Ciri had arrived. Jaskier kept shooting worried glances at Geralt, and Ciri stayed completely focused on her spaghetti. When she had slurped up the final noodle, she mumbled something about going to Yennefer’s and disappeared from the apartment. 

“When did she start wanting to go to Yennefer’s?” Jaskier wondered, his words falling out into the silent apartment.

“Hmm.” Geralt grunted, taking a swig of water and going to put his dishes in the dishwasher. He could sense that Jaskier was about to say something, and he desperately wanted to go back to his dark bedroom.

“Sometimes I wish you would just  _ talk  _ to me about your problems, Geralt.” Jaskier’s frustrated plea fell out before Geralt had made it past the dividing space between the kitchen and the living room. “Instead of, I don’t know, brooding and making me worry all the time.” 

“Well I’m sorry you don’t know everything that goes on in my life.” Geralt snapped, turning on his heel. “Maybe I have a reason for keeping things from you.”

“And what the hell is that?” 

“That’s none of your business.” 

“It is my business, I’m your fucking best friend, and I fucking live with you!” 

“That doesn’t mean shit-all if I goddamn want to keep things to myself!”

“Do you remember last time you kept things from people?” Jaskier asked, his voice rising abruptly. “Do you, Geralt?”

“Yes, I fucking do.” Geralt retorted.

“And you drove everyone in your life away.” Jaskier said. “Don’t think you can do that again, you bastard, because I’m not leaving, but I’d like it if you fucking told me shit!”

“ _ Sometimes I wish you would leave! _ ” The moment that left Geralt’s lips, he regretted it, but it did nothing to change the look on Jaskier’s face. He looked like he was about to cry.

“I’m going...I...walk. Get some air.” he sputtered, waving his arm vaguely at the door. Geralt stood there, his hands shaking, as Jaskier clumsily put his boots on and left the apartment, the door closing with an awful sound. 

“God _ damnit _ .” Geralt whispered. Where the  _ hell _ had that come from? He sat down on the floor and leaned his head against the wall, trying to stop the inevitable tears that came tumbling down his cheeks. Geralt Riviiowski did not cry easily, but when he did, it was difficult for him to stop. He sat on the kitchen floor sobbing in shaky hiccups, not caring that his bun had started to come unraveled and was falling in his face. He knew Jaskier would come back. He usually did when they fought. They rarely fought like this, but when one of them was in an awful mood, they would usually go for a walk for around twenty minutes and come back with a clearer head. Geralt should have done that, but he hadn’t been thinking clearly. Roach crept into the room and climbed into his lap, and he buried his wet face in her fur, not caring that he would certainly have cat hair all over his cheeks when he was done

“When he comes back I’m going to apologize.” he muttered into Roach’s fur. “For real, this time. I’m going to apologize and I’m going to talk about my feelings like I’ve been trying to for the past eight years. I swore I was going to start after...after he left, and look where that got me. I swear, Roach, this time I’m not lying.” Roach butted her head against his cheek and purred. “Why do I keep doing things like this? How old am I, Roach? Forty-three? I should know how to talk to people like an adult.” Roach didn’t seem to care. Geralt’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out, hoping it was Jaskier, but it was just Yen.  _ I’ll have Ciri back before midnight don’t worry. _

“When did Ciri start being friends with Yen?” Geralt asked the cat, setting his phone on the ground and wiping his face on the sleeve of his t-shirt. Cat fur got in his eye, and he spent a few moments trying to extract it. “It must have been within the past twenty-four hours. I wonder what they’re up to.” He checked the time. It had been ten minutes since Jaskier had left. Geralt opened his phone and paused to smile at the background image. 

It was a few years old, and showed him, Jaskier, and Yennefer in front of a beautiful flowering tree. Yennefer was wearing a cute white blouse and black skirt and looked very trim and proper. She had tucked a single blue flower behind her ear. Jaskier was wearing pale grey shorts, a hot pink Hawaiian shirt with big white flowers all over it, and had tried his best to fit several flowers in his hair. Geralt was standing in between both of them, wearing his usual all black and a leather jacket, accented with the carefully constructed flower crown Jaskier had bestowed upon him after spending ten silent minutes solely focused on weaving the stems together. They had been caught unawares, and Geralt was staring vaguely in the direction of the camera with a silly smile on his face. Yen was in the act of posing for the photo, and Jaskier...Jaskier was staring at Geralt. 

“Hmm.” Geralt muttered. He had never really noticed the way Jaskier was looking at him. It was...it was the way Geralt sometimes caught himself looking at Jaskier. Like he was the only person in the world that mattered.  _ Like he was in love with him _ . 

“Roach, I am a _fucking_ _asshole_.” Geralt said, pressing the phone to his forehead. “I am a fool, a coward, a dumbass...why the fuck do I never listen to Yen?” Roach had no answers for him. Geralt dumped the cat off of his lap and stood, shoving his phone into his pocket and pulling his boots on, tying his laces in a frantic scramble. He did a quick slap of all of his pockets to make sure he had his keys, then grabbed his leather jacket and sprinted out of the apartment, letting the door slam behind him. 

\------

The sun was sinking below the treeline along the river when Jaskier left the apartment. He stuck his hands in his jacket pockets and wandered down the sidewalk to the park, which was about five blocks away. It would be closing in another hour, but he didn’t plan on being there for very long. Just long enough for Geralt to calm down. It would take long, now that he had lashed out and hurt someone. Jaskier knew Geralt, knew when he was really angry and when he was just cranky. It had hurt his feelings when Geralt had yelled at him, but he knew deep down that Geralt hadn’t really meant it and was probably sitting on the floor of the kitchen feeling like shit. 

“He didn’t really mean that, didn’t you see his face?” he muttered to himself, wiping the angry tears that had started to form away with a frustrated sleeve. There was a bench in the center of the patch of grass closest to the street, and he sat down on it, wrapping his arms around himself and finally letting the tears roll. No one could see him here, away from the streetlights. “Why did I start bugging him? I knew he was having a bad day. I should have just waited until tomorrow, or later. Why am I such an...unaware fucker?” He scrubbed his face with his sleeves again and sighed. “Damnit, Jaskier, how are you supposed to get men to like you like this? It’s only been, what, twenty-three years? Stupid.” He kicked a rock and stared up at the sky. It was a clear night, and in the patches of sky that were free from the last pink streaks of sunlight, a handful of faint stars glowed vailiently through the lights of the city. Jaskier and Geralt had gone on a camping trip once, years ago, and Jaskier had been almost overwhelmed by the amount of stars he had been able to see. He wanted that again. It had been so quiet out in the woods, just him and Geralt and the endless stars. 

“I’m going to tell him. Once we apologize and everything, I’m going to tell him.” he said to the sky. “You hear that? It’s been twenty years, and I’m finally going to tell him. I don’t care if this is what finally ends us, I’m tired of keeping secrets. He’s my best friend, and I owe him this much.” He pulled his phone out and looked at the time. It had been ten minutes. Good enough. Geralt was probably more calm now. Jaskier stood up and walked through the dark trees and into the light of the street. He wandered down the sidewalk, humming absently to himself. He was so absorbed in his song that he didn’t notice the people coming up behind him until one of them grabbed his arm and twisted it out of his pocket and into a painful hammerlock. He flailed as the very strong who had him in the hold shoved him into the alley and against the wall. 

“Now, we don’t want any trouble.” a smooth, low voice that didn’t belong to Jaskier’s attacker said. 

“Like fuck you don’t.” Jaskier managed, and his holder pressed his arm up. A horrible jolt of pain shot through his shoulder, and he let out a strangled squeak. 

“All we want is to know where Cirilla Riannon is.” the voice continued. “Tell us, and you can go without harm. Refuse and, well, I can’t promise anything.” Jaskier cursed internally and hoped to whatever deity was listening that Geralt had decided to come after him.

\------

Geralt slowed his sprint when he reached the sidewalk and paused, collecting his thoughts. Jaskier would have gone to the park. It was the only place he could go, unless he had decided that the best way to soothe hurt feelings was to go to the café at the end of the block and eat upsetting amounts of donuts. If Geralt did not find him in the park, he would go to the café. That was a good plan. The most important question at the moment was, what was he going to  _ say _ after he apologized?  _ I’m sorry I told you to get out of my life, in reality I’m in love with you and I’ve been expressing it by taking my problems out on you. _

“Fuck.” Geralt muttered to himself. He wondered if this was a good idea at all. He needed time, time to think.  _ This is why you never do anything without thinking, Geralt. _ What the hell did he think he was doing? “Don’t stop now or you’ll wait another ten years.” he muttered to himself. “Damnit.” He slapped himself in the face a couple of times, trying to get that burst of nerve he had found so briefly in the apartment. Finally, with a deep sigh, he started walking. It was not that late, but the street was empty of pedestrians. This part of the city was primarily residential, so this was not unusual, but Geralt was surprised nonetheless. It allowed him to wander along the sidewalk listening to the evening sounds. Someone in the apartment building next door to their building was blasting rap music. A car honked on a street in the distance, and a chorus of cats screeched in a back alley. Geralt undid his bun and redid it, leaving most of his hair hanging down. Four blocks until he reached the park. There was a party going on in the townhouse next to the convenience store, and neon strobe lights flashed out of the ground floor windows. Geralt wondered why someone would have a rave that started at seven, but as he had never actually been to a rave he wasn’t sure if he could judge them for their time choice. The closest thing to a rave he had been to had been the club he and Jaskier had gone to all those years ago, the one they had met Yennefer at. That would have been more of a disaster if it hadn’t led to one of his closest friendships. Jaskier had taken someone’s drink, which had turned out to have been spiked, and Geralt had not known what he was supposed to do with his extremely high best friend. It was lucky Yennefer had been there and had been willing to help them. 

Geralt sighed and shook his head, remembering that night. So much had changed since then.  _ Three blocks.  _ Yennefer had still been dating that fucker, what had his name been? Eyck? Jaskier had wanted to hold a celebratory party when Yennefer had finally dumped him, and the only thing that had stopped Geralt from being all in with the idea was his determination to take the empty place in Yennefer’s life that Eyck had left open. He wished now that he had taken Jaskier’s suggestion. Romance was important, but sometimes you just needed to get drunk with your best friend and make fun of a stuck-up asshole. He would take more time for friendship this time around, if it worked out. He wouldn’t ignore Yennefer–or Ciri, for that matter–in favor of spending time with Jaskier. If he was right, which he was certain he was now, but there was still that unknown.

_ Two blocks _ . Geralt could see a few trees on the far end of the park. His heart started to pound with anxiety. What was he doing? Did he really think he could pull off an apology and a confession in the same conversation? Was this a good time to do it? When was a good time to ask someone out? He and Yennefer had gone into it organically. That was the best word for what had happened. The night Yennefer had broken up with Eyck, she had invited him over for dinner, and they had ended up fucking on her couch and later her bed, and a little bit on her floor, although that had been distinctly less enjoyable and had led Geralt to suspect that Yennefer had a rug burn kink. They had done that a few more times before deciding to officially go out. There had been no declaration of love, no grand gesture. It had just happened. Geralt knew Jaskier was the kind of person who appreciated grand gestures, but he still wasn’t certain. 

He was about to cross the street towards the final block before the park when he heard it. He froze, one boot in the gutter, his ears straining. He heard someone speaking low, and a muffled cry.

“I don’t...I don’t know where...she is...you fuckers…” Geralt would have known that voice anywhere. A  _ thump  _ and another faint cry told him that Jaskier and whoever was hurting him were in the alley just past where he was standing, and he began to speed towards it, panic rising in his throat.

He took in the scene as fast as he could while he ran. There were four people standing in the shadows of the alley. Jaskier was cowering against the concrete of the building that formed one side of the alley, and a muscular man wearing a black jacket and military style boots loomed over him. From the way he was standing, Geralt supposed that he had just hit Jaskier in the stomach. A tall woman wearing a similar outfit was standing to the side, watching this scene with a calculating expression on her face, and a smaller man with slicked-back hair was standing in the center of the alley, his back towards Geralt. None of them were looking at the street. Geralt covered the length of the alley and threw a roundhouse kick at the man’s head, leaning as far back as he could to give the kick more distance. If he had been in the kwoon sparring, he would have landed nothing more than a nasty bruise, but the added weight of his combat boots gave his kick more of a bite. There was a crunch as he connected with the man’s cheek, and the man stumbled towards the wall, clutching at his face. Geralt used the momentum of his first kick to land a side kick–which was closer to a back kick, but technique didn't matter at the moment–on the back of the man’s head, and he crumpled to the ground. The man who had been hitting Jaskier turned away from his victim and began to march towards Geralt, and the woman began to fumble in her jacket.

“ _ Jaskier, run! _ ” Geralt shouted, running for the woman. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jaskier wiping a trickle of blood from his mouth and turning towards the muscular man, a glint in his eye. “Don’t  _ fucking fight him, get out of here!  _ I can take care of it!” Geralt roared at him. 

“By yourself?” Jaskier yelled back. “I’m not leaving you to get mauled, Geralt!” The woman had pulled a pistol out of her jacket, and as Geralt ran towards her she fired off two shots. He didn’t see where they went, as he was too busy throwing her into the ground with a backsweep. Her head slammed into the concrete and she fell unconscious. The gun went flying and went off a third time, but the bullet went into the wall. Geralt turned to see Jaskier still pressed against the wall. The big man had turned towards Geralt, but one of the stray bullets had hit him in the chest. Blood was spreading across his white shirt as he tried to keep his footing. He lurched towards Geralt, but Geralt dodged him and knocked him off balance. He fell to the ground beside the woman and lay still. Geralt stood there, breathing hard, then looked up at Jaskier.

“Jask, are you…” He trailed off. Jaskier had gone an odd shade of white, and he was clinging to the wall. A patch of blood was spreading across his stomach. Geralt ran to him and caught him before he fell, and Jaskier fell into him. 

“Geralt…” he whispered. 

“I’ve got you.” Geralt said, carefully lowering them both to the ground and cradling Jaskier in his arms. “Here.” He took his jacket off and, with a brief pause, pulled his shirt off and tore it into pieces, making a makeshift bandage that staunched the worst of the blood. “That should...stop the bleeding. For now.” He was not going to panic. His hands were shaking, but he was calm. He had to be calm. “We should...I’ll call Yennefer.” 

“...can’t stay here.” Jaskier managed. “They’ll...they’ll wake up. Someone’ll hear.” 

“Can you travel?” Geralt studied Jaskier’s face, which was twisted into a grimace of pain. Jaskier shrugged, and Geralt chewed his lip. “I’m going to carry you back to the car, and we’re...we’re going to go to the hospital, and you’re going to be fine. It’s not that far.” Jaskier nodded and leaned his face against Geralt’s shoulder. Geralt pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial for Yennefer, then put his jacket back on and picked Jaskier up. His roommate was heavier than he looked, and for a moment Geralt was scared that he was going to drop him, but after carefully balancing him in his arms he found that it would be no trouble at all. He pressed a quick, tentative kiss to the top of Jaskier’s head and began the long journey back to the apartment, tucking his phone onto his shoulder and praying that Yennefer would pick up. 

It took her two blocks to answer her phone.

“Geralt, what do you want?” she asked. “We’re in the middle of an episode.”

“Yen, I need you to meet me in the parking garage.” Geralt said, striding down the sidewalk as fast as he could reasonably go. He hit a broken bit of concrete and tripped slightly, but that did nothing to stop his almost rhythmic march. Jaskier made a quietly strangled noise and tightened his hold on Geralt’s lapel.

“What? Geralt, what was that noise?” 

“Jaskier is hurt. Badly.” Geralt said sharply. One more block. It had seemed to take him forever to walk this short stretch of pavement when he had been going towards the park, but now the buildings seemed to blur into a tunnel ending in the parking garage. “We need to go to the hospital.”

“Why don’t you call...never mind. I’m coming down.  _ Ciri, you’re not coming _ . I’ll see you soon.” The line clicked off, and Geralt did his best to maneuver his phone into his jacket pocket.

“...Geralt…” Jaskier muttered, his face still pressed into Geralt’s shoulder. “...hurts.”

“I know. I know. We’re almost there.” Geralt murmured, carefully adjusting his hold on Jaskier. They reached the entrance to the garage, and Geralt hoped against all hopes that no one was going to be there. “Thank fuck for Yen.” 

“...must get tired of...helping us.” Jaskier mumbled vaguely. “Second time…”

“I don’t think Yen will get tired of driving you to the hospital that fast.” Geralt said, trying desperately to hide the shake in his voice. Jaskier’s fingers brushed across Geralt’s chest, and he whispered something completely unintelligible.

Yen’s car was parked on the second floor of the garage, and when Geralt came around the curve of the ramp he could see her leaning against the trunk of her car with her black cardigan pulled around her. Ciri was standing next to her, wearing her sweatshirt and looking defiant. Her eyes widened when she saw Geralt and Jaskier.

“Took you long enough.” Yen said. Geralt could tell she was anxious from how high her voice was. “What the  _ hell _ happened?”

“Gun.” Geralt said shortly. “I thought Ciri wasn’t coming.”

“She was too stubborn to stay.” Yen sighed. “Ciri, sit in the front.” Ciri followed her instructions. As soon as they were all settled, Yen jerked the car into reverse and sped out of the parking garage and onto the street. She was a good driver, but Geralt had never seen her go this fast, not even that disastrous night at the Djinn. Jaskier fumbled for his hand, and he gave it over, doing his best to not cling to Jask as tightly as he wanted to. 

“Was it Nilfgaard?” Ciri turned around in her seat to stare at Geralt with wide eyes. Yen went over a speed bump without dropping speed, and Jaskier dug his nails into Geralt’s hand. 

“I don’t know.” Geralt said, stroking Jaskier’s hair with his free hand. “Probably.”

“It was.” Jaskier managed. “...wanted to know where Ciri was.” Ciri blanched. “...didn’t tell them.” 

“How did they know you would know where I am?” Ciri whispered, her voice trembling. Yen screeched around a turn, and they all clung on to whatever was closest. 

“Nilfgaard has powerful spying capabilities.” Yen said. “They must have found the connection between your grandmother and Geralt, and then figured out that Jaskier is Geralt’s roommate.” Jaskier groaned quietly as Yen took another hairpin turn, and Geralt began tracing a steady circle with his thumb over the back of Jaskier’s hand. 

“Then they can find us anywhere. They can know where our apartment is.” Ciri was growing more and more panicked with every word she said.

“Apparently not.” Yen said. “They had to attack Jaskier on the street to get that information.” They screeched into the emergency parking lot, and Geralt gathered Jaskier up in his arms.

“...Geralt….” Jaskier muttered as they sped towards the glowing lights of the hospital. “Geralt, don’t...don’t leave.”

“I won’t.” Geralt whispered, kissing him on the forehead. “I’m not leaving you. I promise.” The doors opened, and they stepped inside the emergency room’s lobby.


	7. I was born to press my head between your shoulder blades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt experiences emotions. Jaskier and Geralt come to a realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's chapter title is from "Fair", a song which does make me go feral every time I hear it. Big Disclaimer: the last time I was in a hospital for inpatient care was when I was a baby being birthed, so I'm pulling all of this out of my ass! I thought no one would really care while I was writing this chapter and then one of my betas went off on me for my inaccurate hospital depictions (and did tell eir mother I was writing make-out scenes but that's a whole 'nother thing) so now y'all get this fun little note. Anyways, thank you so much for reading!!!

The tile floor of the hospital made a faint thumping noise under Geralt’s combat boots as he paced back and forth along the perimeter of the waiting room. He had been alternating between walking around the large room and sitting on the edge of a chair vibrating with anxious energy for the past two hours. Yen had left ten minutes earlier, supposedly to get something from the vending machine, but Geralt suspected that she was getting tired of his constant walking. Ciri was asleep and had been for about an hour. She was curled up against the wall, Yen’s cardigan draped over her shoulders. Geralt finished his lap of the room and sat down next to her, his left leg automatically falling into a bounce. A woman sitting across from him smiled kindly at him. She had arrived half an hour previously, and had been sitting primly with her white handbag perched in her lap. 

“I got you something.” Yen tossed two granola bars into his lap and took the seat next to him. “No word yet?” Geralt shook his head and began carefully unwrapping one bar. A waft of air conditioning blew freezing air over them, and he was thankful that Yen had gone back to the apartment to grab him a clean shirt. “There should be something soon.” she continued, opening her bag of trail mix and delicately selecting a few nuts. “It’s been long enough.”

“Do you know how long things like this take?” Geralt asked, looking at her.

“No, but I expect two hours is long enough.” Yen said, shrugging. They sat in silence, chewing thoughtfully. Yen finished her snack and went to throw the bag away. She had also purchased a bag of gummy bears, which she shared with Geralt. “He’s going to be fine.” Yen said suddenly. “Don’t worry too much about that. We got here within fifteen minutes of him being shot, and I don’t think the bullet hit anything important. We would have known.”

“Hmm.” Geralt accepted another bear and went to throw out his wrappers. Ciri shifted in her sleep, and he reached over to fix the cardigan. 

“And it wasn’t your fault, Geralt.” Yen continued. “How were you supposed to stop a stray bullet? With  _ your  _ body? That would only mean I would be sitting here having this same conversation with Jaskier. I don’t know how they found us, and I don’t know how they knew Jaskier would be there, but it wasn’t anything to do with you. It was all a bad coincidence.”

“If I hadn’t shouted at him, he wouldn’t have left the apartment, and they wouldn’t have found him at all.” Geralt said to his boots.

“Geralt, that’s stupid and you know it.” Yen said. “Something would have happened. There was no way this could have ended without someone getting hurt.” Geralt rubbed his face and stared at her in disbelief. “How many times are we going to have this conversation?” Yen sighed. “Jask is going to say the same thing. You know he is.” Geralt opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by one of the nurses coming through the door. She glanced down at her clipboard and looked around.

“Family of...Julien Pankratz?” she said carefully. Geralt was on his feet before she had finished her sentence. 

“I’ll stay here with Ciri.” Yen said as he walked away. The nurse gave Geralt a strange look, as if she couldn’t believe he was Jaskier’s family, but she led the way into the main hospital. 

“He’s sleeping.” the nurse said as they sped along the hallways, trotting to keep abreast of Geralt’s fast pace. “You should plan on him being here for a few more days, but he was really lucky. Nothing important was too badly damaged, and he should heal up just fine. We’re just worried about infection right now, and the possibility of other issues we might have missed with the initial surgery.”

“Hmm.” Geralt said. They turned a corner and stopped at room 452, a plain gray door that was identical to every other door in the hospital. 

“I’ll let you spend time alone now.” the nurse said gently. “Ring if you need anything. Regular visiting hours end at…” She checked her watch. “Ten, but patients are allowed one adult visitor to stay overnight.” 

“Thank you.” Geralt said, for want of something more to say. The nurse smiled and continued on her way. Geralt opened the door and slipped inside.

It was quiet, too quiet for a room that Jaskier was in. The only sound was the quiet hum of machines and a faint beeping from somewhere. Geralt took the chair sitting by the bed and stared at Jaskier’s hands. One was lying by his side, the fingers curled gently, and the other was sprawled across his stomach, twitching occasionally. As Geralt sat there, his hands folded in his lap, Jaskier’s head rolled to the side and he mumbled something unintelligible. Geralt let out the breath he had been holding. If Jask was making noises in his sleep, then everything would be fine. Noises were normal. Noises were good.

The door opened a crack, and Yen poked her head in. 

“Ciri’s awake.” she said. “She wants to come in.” Ciri’s head appeared in the gap between Yen and the door and was soon followed by the rest of Ciri. She crossed the room and threw her arms around Geralt, burying her face in his shoulder. Geralt hugged her back. 

“Is he going to be ok?” she whispered, her voice small and shrinking. 

“He’s going to be ok.” Geralt said. He ran his fingers through her hair, working out the tangles. Ciri let out a quiet sob, and Geralt held her tighter. He wanted to let her know that he would not let anyone, not even the Nilfgaardian army itself, hurt her, but after the events of that night he was not sure if that was a promise he could make. “You should go home. It’s late. Yen...Yen will look after you. I’m going to stay with Jask.”

“I want to stay.” Ciri sniffed. 

“They don’t let kids under 18 stay overnight.” Yen said. “We’ll come back tomorrow morning, first thing.” 

“Go with Yen.” Geralt murmured. “I’ll see you in the morning.” Ciri lingered for a moment, then relented and let go of him.

“Call if anything changes.” Yen said. “We’ll be back at nine tomorrow.” Geralt nodded, and Yen steered Ciri out into the hall. The door shut, and Geralt was alone with Jaskier’s silent sleeping form. He sat there for a long time, listening to Jask’s breathing.

“Jask...fuck, Jask, I don’t know what to say.” he said abruptly, feeling like he needed to fill the silence, needed to get his thoughts out before he said them for real. “You know I’m not good with words...I guess that's why I’m saying this now, when you can’t hear me. If I can say it when no one is listening, I can say it to you. I don’t know why I said all those things to you. I don’t know where that came from. I had the worst day at work, and it all came pouring out, and...and the last thing I said to you before you left was  _ that _ . Jask, I...I don’t know where that came from. And I know you don’t have to forgive me for it. I still don’t know why you forgave me last time. I’m an asshole, Jaskier.” He let out a long breath. “If that...if you had…” The words got stuck in his throat. “Even if I was right, even if I wasn’t seeing things in that photo, you deserve someone better than me. Someone who dosen’t let things like that fly out of his mouth. I don’t know why I’ve ever thought I was...I don’t know if…” He broke, and tears started rolling down his face. “Look at this. Fuck if I know if I can do this when you’re actually listening.  _ Fuck _ .” He leaned his forehead against the edge of the bed, pressing his hands into his face. “If I’d just...learned how to...if I could actually talk to you about my feelings, none of this would have happened. It’s my fault. All I’ve ever done is hurt the people I love. It’s the only thing I know how to do.” 

He couldn’t get anything more out. Tears tumbled down his face, and sobs curled in his throat. Fuck, he hadn’t been expecting to become this much of a mess when he was talking to Jaskier directly, much less when he was talking to a sleeping Jask that couldn’t actually hear what he was saying. He was such a  _ goddamn idiot _ . He should have thought that there would be people waiting out in the city for them. He should never have let Jaskier go out into the night alone. He should never have shouted at him like that. He should have just...what? Gotten over himself and talked to Jaskier? Could he do that?

He felt something brushing his hair, and he paused his shaking breaths to focus on it. Fingers were tracing their way through his hair, twining around the tangled strands and going deep in the specific way Geralt liked. He raised his head from his arms to look up, and Jaskier’s hand fell down to his cheek, brushing a stray tear away.

“Don’t mourn me just yet, I don’t think I’m going to die anytime soon.” he said, speaking slowly, as if he wasn’t sure what words he was trying to say. “Or do you know something I don’t?” 

“Fuck you, Jaskier.” Geralt managed as a fresh wave of sobs came down over him. Jaskier sat up more fully and reached across the bed to pull Geralt to him. Geralt moved onto the bed and let Jaskier hold him.

“I feel like someone shoved a lot of cotton inside my head.” Jaskier said after a while, tracing some sort of shape over Geralt’s back with the palm of his hand. “It sucks.” 

“Hmm.” Geralt buried his nose in Jaskier’s hair and breathed in the faint scent of his lavender shampoo. They were quiet again, reveling in the feeling of each other. “I’m sorry, Jask.” Geralt said finally, pulling far enough away that he could see Jaskier’s face, but still holding on to him. “I…”

“I heard you, Geralt.” Jaskier reached a hand up and tucked a stray bit of hair behind Geralt’s ear. “I started waking up when you started talking, and I heard most of it.” Geralt opened his mouth to say something, and Jaskier put a finger over his mouth, gently. “I’ve forgiven you already. You don’t need to apologize more than you already did. I know when you’re really angry and when you’re...grumpy angry. And I really should have waited to bother you about that stuff.”

“It was…”

“It’s past and done, and now we have bigger things to deal with. I think I know you don’t really want me to leave now.” Jaskier smiled slowly. “We’ve both been idiots.”

“What do you mean?” Geralt knew there was something Jaskier was hinting at, but he couldn’t quite fathom it.

“Damnit, Geralt, sometimes I don’t know why I fell in love with you, you’re so clueless sometimes.” Jaskier said teasingly. Geralt stared at him.

“Oh.  _ Oh. _ ” He had thought through this scenario so many times, but he had not planned well enough. What was he going to  _ say _ ? He must have looked like a deer in the headlights, because Jaskier’s face twisted into a look of concern.

“Geralt, are you…?” Geralt had no words that could express everything he was feeling, so he leaned in and kissed Jaskier. 

It was a gentle, tentative kiss at first. Jaskier let out a surprised squeak, then pulled Geralt closer, and the kiss grew deeper, more passionate. They pressed close together, as if they were trying to climb into each other’s skin and become one being. One of Jaskier’s hands slipped up Geralt’s shirt, and the feeling of their skin pressing together in this way sent shivers of pleasure through Geralt’s very being. He tangled his fingers through Jaskier’s hair–he had never noticed how much fucking hair Jaskier had–and let his other hand fall to the small of Jaskier’s back. Jaskier was mostly in his lap now, and it was hard to tell whose legs were where. Geralt felt his hair band falling to the floor, but he didn’t care. He didn’t need his hair up right now.

Eventually, Jaskier pulled away and nestled his face into the curve of Geralt’s neck.

“Geralt, I love you, but I kind of think I need to go to sleep now.” he murmured, his words blurring together. 

“Hmm.” Geralt had wondered in the midst of his sudden and burning desire to kiss Jaskier where his friend–boyfriend?–was finding enough energy to make out.

“Are you...staying?” Jaskier asked, running his fingers over Geralt’s spine and snuggling closer. 

“Of course.” 

“Hmmm.”

“Maybe you should get into bed.” Geralt pressed his forehead against the top of Jaskier’s head and kissed him, gently, then carefully moved him off of his lap and began gently tucking the blankets around him.

“‘S fine. I like it.” 

“Hmm.” They must have given him a lot of drugs, because Geralt had never known Jaskier to grow tired this fast. Jaskier blinked up at him sleepily, then pulled him down onto the bed next to him and kissed him softly, tracing his fingers over the outline of his face. 

“ _ Kocham cię. _ ” he mumbled, kissing him again. “ _ Mojej miłości do ciebie nie da się wyrazić słowami _ .” Another kiss.

“Hmm.” They continued to kiss, slowly, gently, until Jaskier finally drifted off. Geralt lay there staring up at the stark white ceiling for a long time trying to process everything that had happened that day before he too fell asleep. 

\------

The quiet buzz of conversation drew Jaskier gradually out of his sleep. His head still felt weird, but he guessed that was probably the heavy pain medication he was on. After his burst of energy the previous night, which had certainly been entirely fueled by romantic desire, he had crashed hard during the night. He wanted to go back to sleep, but he also wanted to see Geralt, to make sure he hadn’t hallucinated everything that had happened. It was entirely possible that he had dreamed the whole thing in a terribly vivid drug-fueled fantasy. Carefully, he forced his eyes open and stared up at the ceiling. The fluorescent lights were just out of the corner of his eye, but they flickered in such a way that he couldn’t help staring at them. 

“...can’t stay here, Geralt.” Yennefer was saying. “You have work, don’t you?”

“I can take off. I can afford that. It should only be three days, and I was only working Monday anyways.” 

“I’m working Monday. What’s Ciri supposed to do, sit around alone in the apartment for a day?”

“...you’re right. I didn’t think about Ciri. I’m sorry, Yen.” 

“There’s a lot going on, you can’t be expected to think of everything.” Yennefer sighed. “I can get Reagan to look after the shop on Monday and watch Ciri, or I can bring Ciri to work, although that might ruin the...the vibe.”

“Dress her up in some black clothes and put a witch hat on her.”

“Fuck you, Geralt, that’s not how occult things work.” 

“I can always lend her one of my leather jackets. Goth is close enough to occult.” There was a smacking sound.

“Eat your damn sandwich.” Yennefer said. “Did you remember to call the coffee place?”

“I did.” Geralt’s voice was muffled by something, probably a sandwich. “They’d prefer Jask calling in, but Yvette said she could be accommodating for a bit.” There was silence, during which Jaskier decided that the light had grown to be too much and shut his eyes again. A wrapper crinkled.

“I called Sabrina.” Yennefer said finally. “She dosen’t have any contact with Fringilla anymore, so she has no idea what she’s up to. I don’t think she would know anything about...this...even if she did still keep in touch. Most of us don’t talk to Fringilla anyway. Nilfgaard isn’t...great.”

“No shit.” Geralt grunted. 

“I mean, other than this, they don’t have a good reputation among our community. Outside of world domination.”

“Isn’t that what your people like to do?” There was another smacking. 

“Does Jaskier usually sleep for this long? It’s almost noon.” 

“How long do you sleep on pain medication?”

“Touché. By the way, what were you two doing last night?”

“...what.”

“I was talking to one of the nurses, and she said Jaskier’s heart rate spiked in the middle of the night, but when they went in to check they saw ‘naughty actions occurring’ so they didn’t do anything about it. What kind of phrasing is that? And she giggled, too.”

“Hmm.”

“Geralt, don’t ‘hmm’ at me like that, you know you can tell me shit. There’s nothing you can tell me about your sex life that won’t surprise me.”

“Fuck if I don’t know that.” Geralt groaned. “We weren’t having sex. We’re not...we wouldn’t do that. Just...kissing.”

“Mmmhmm. Just kissing the  _ man you’ve been in love with for eight years _ .  _ Finally _ .” 

“Yen, I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, you were right, et cetera. I have learned my lesson and I will trust your judgement.”

“Like hell you will. Seriously, though, I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, Yen.” 

“Aww, look at that goofy smile. You’re happy!”

“Shut up, Yen.” 

“Do you think he’s awake?”

“I never know.” Jaskier, who was drifting off to sleep, smiled to himself. He wanted to wake up, to say something, but in that moment all he could do was go back to sleep. 

When Jaskier woke up again, he felt more alert and ready to wake up. This time, however, the room was empty. He sat up carefully, mindful of the fact that he could feel the edges of the burning pain in his stomach returning, and looked around. His bed faced the door and an expanse of white wall. There was a wall entirely filled with a counter, sink, cabinets, and a handful of miscellaneous medical supplies sorted neatly into containers. The lights were off, but sunlight streamed through a window next to the bed. A leather jacket that was definitely Geralt’s lay on the back of an insufficiently padded chair next to the bed. Jaskier reached across the small distance between him and the chair and gathered it in his arms. It was not the most pleasant thing to bury his face against, but it smelled like Geralt. 

The door clicked open, and Jaskier dropped the jacket into his lap to see Geralt closing it as quietly as he could. He turned around and started upon seeing Jaskier sitting up and smiling at him. 

“Good morning, my darling Geralt.” Jaskier said in a cheerful lilt. 

“It’s...well, it is morning, actually.” Geralt rubbed his hands over his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept very well recently, and his hair was a mess. He came over and perched on the edge of the bed. Jaskier pulled him over and kissed him. Geralt’s cheeks were prickly with stubble. 

“Have you been home since last night? Two nights ago? How long have I been out for?” Jaskier asked, reaching up and beginning to sort out the tangle of Geralt’s hair with his fingers. 

“It’s been two days.” Geralt said, pausing to count. “No, I haven’t.”

“Ger _ alt _ .” 

“I needed to make sure you weren’t alone.” Geralt said stubbornly. 

“If you don’t go home to shower and change your clothes and take a nap today, I  _ will _ cry.” Jaskier threatened, pausing his ministrations to prod Geralt in the chest. “I’ll be OK. It’s not like Nilfgaard is going to climb through the window.” Geralt looked grim, and Jaskier frowned at him. “I don’t like that face.” 

“They found what street we live on.” Geralt said. “I do not know what else they know, or what they can get. Yen dosen’t know for sure either. She’s been calling her friends, and so far Sabrina, Triss, and Vilgefortz have said they don’t know anything. I think she is planning on calling Tissaia de Vries next.” 

“Hmm.” Jaskier dropped his hands to his lap and stared towards the window. Geralt laced his fingers through Jaskier’s and ran his thumb over his palm. “If you hadn’t come, I think they were ready to kill me.” Jaskier said finally, not looking at Geralt. “I wasn’t going to tell them shit-all about Ciri, and they knew it. They were close to it. I was...I didn’t think you were going to come after me.” His words started to break apart, and Geralt released one of his hands to turn his face towards him. 

“I will always be there.” he said. “That’s a promise I will not break.” 

“You’re such a sap, Geralt.” Jaskier sniffed, squeezing his hand. Geralt kissed him on the forehead, and Jaskier turned his face upwards and kissed him back on the lips. They descended into a gentle exchange of kisses, running their fingers through each other’s hair and over each other’s bodies. Jaskier was running his fingers down under the waistband of Geralt’s jeans when the door opened with a creak. Geralt grabbed his hand as Ciri poked her head into the room, took in the scene, then winked with an impish grin and closed the door slowly. 

“Oh,  _ fuck _ .” Geralt groaned, releasing Jaskier and pressing his face into his hair. “Why didn’t Yen text before she sent Ciri up?”

“I think there is a conspiracy against us.” Jaskier said, returning his hands sheepishly to Geralt’s back and resting his head on his shoulder. “Yennefer de Vengerberg and Cirilla Fi–”

“Shh!”

“Geralt, no one’s going to be listening.” Jaskier said cautiously. 

“We have to be careful.” Geralt muttered into his hair. “I don’t trust anything anymore.”

“You trust me.”

“Hmm.  _ Hmm _ .” Jaskier cackled and withdrew his hand from where he had slipped it. Geralt bonked his forehead against the top of Jaskier’s head for want of words. Jaskier knew he was hiding a blush.

“I have to make up for all those years we spent pining after each other.” he said cheekily. “So many years of...well, you know.”

“Julien Alfred Pankratz, you are...horrible.” Jaskier looked up into Geralt’s face and grinned. 

“But you still love me.” 

Geralt sighed. “But I still love you.” Jaskier kissed him on the nose, and he sputtered for a moment. “Hmm.” he said, finally. They settled against each other, Geralt rubbing his thumb in a gentle circle over the inside of Jaskier’s thigh.

“What are we going to do about Nilfgaard?” Jaskier wondered after a long and comfortable silence. “Is there anything we can do?”

“I don’t know.” Geralt said tiredly. “I really don’t know. Yen might have a plan. Eventually.”

“Eventually.” Jaskier sighed. 

“Are you two busy or should I come back later?” Yen’s voice called through the door, breaking through their brief melancholy.

“Are we busy?” Jaskier wondered. Geralt snorted and stood up to let Yennefer in.


	8. Today I somehow understand the reason I was born

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yen uses her powers for crimes. Triss comes to visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's title is from "Fair", again. I might have used "Fair" a lot for these titles. :3 Thank you for reading!!

Jaskier was released from the hospital a couple of days later with a small prescription of painkillers and strict instructions to not do anything strenuous for at least two weeks, an order which he was milking as hard as he could. Geralt was glad that the instructions had also involved Jaskier not going back to work until he was fully healed. He had spent the day before Jaskier had left the hospital worrying about Nilfgaard finding him at work and finishing the job they had started, but now they had time to plan. Everyone in the apartment was on edge. Ciri was spending all her time on the couch with Jaskier and would start at every small noise. Geralt started scheduling his work around Yen’s schedule so that one of them was always nearby, and he began to keep his pocket knife with him at all times, just in case. 

Some things changed for the better. Jaskier moved into Geralt’s bedroom, and Ciri took over the now-empty bedroom. Most nights, they would be awoken by a tentative knock at the door, and Ciri would come and wedge herself into the space between them, awoken by nightmares. Jaskier had joked the first night that it was a good thing they weren’t having sex anyways, and Geralt had kicked him, which had ended in Jaskier accusing him of being a terrible boyfriend. There was barely enough space for all three of them, but none of them cared. Roach had not been phased by Jaskier’s presence in Geralt’s bed and was certainly not concerned with Ciri joining them. She took advantage of the increase in hands to pet her. 

Exactly a week after Jaskier came home from the hospital was a rare night in which Ciri did not come to the bedroom. It was storming, and Geralt was still awake. He was not sure what time it was, but he was certain it was late. He could not tell if Jaskier was awake or not; his boyfriend was breathing steadily and slowly, but every so often he would roll over or change positions. At the moment, he was lying on his side with his face tucked against Geralt’s shoulder and his arm thrown across Geralt’s stomach. Geralt stroked his hair absently. 

“Geralt?” Jaskier mumbled, rolling over and looking up at him. “Why’re you awake?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Geralt said.

“Hmm.” Jaskier started tracing shapes over Geralt’s stomach, and Roach came over to investigate the movement under the blankets. “Are you worrying?”

“Of course I’m worrying.” Geralt said. “I don’t think I’ve stopped worrying.” Jaskier was silent for a long time.

“What are we going to do if they do come for Ciri?” he said finally. “We can’t protect her from Nilfgaard forever.”

“I don’t know.” Geralt said. “I don’t know, Jask, and that scares me.”

“Can Yennefer do anything? She knows a lot of very powerful people, doesn’t she?” Jaskier wondered. 

“I think Yen has been doing everything she can.” Geralt sighed. “I thought we would be fine, and then they came after you.”

“Yeah.” Jaskier snuggled closer, and Geralt moved his hand down to rub Jaskier’s back. “Maybe you scared them away with your epic display of kung fu power.”

“Hmm.” Geralt smiled briefly. “I’m not sure about that.”

“Send Vesemir after them. That’ll show them what happens to people who mess with...with us.”

“With the great poet Julien Alfred Pankratz? They should have heard that he has a whole army of martial arts masters waiting at his beck and call.” Geralt joked. Jaskier chuckled, but it was a weak chuckle. Roach lost interest in the movement of Jaskier’s hand and came to sit on Geralt’s chest, neatly managing to stick her paws in Jaskier’s face.

“Very kind of you to do that, Roach.” Jaskier said. “I think she’s taking revenge on me for stealing her man.”

“Roach knows how to share.” Geralt said, scratching his cat behind her ears. “Don’t you,  _ Płotka _ ?” Roach began to purr and kneaded her claws into Geralt’s chest. “Ow. Thank you.” 

“Geralt?” Jaskier sounded like he was slowly falling asleep.

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Jask.”

“...’m going to sleep now.” Geralt turned his head to the side and pressed a kiss on the top of Jaskier’s head. He was not sure when he eventually drifted off, but it was not long afterwards.

The weeks passed and turned into another month. Jaskier went back to work. Geralt managed to finagle his schedule so that he was usually working jobs within a few blocks of the coffee shop, just in case. Ciri tested for her yellow belt and passed, completing her forms almost perfectly. Vesemir took a picture of her standing with a beaming Geralt and Jaskier and added it to his wall of photos of the instructors and their families. Geralt decided that Ciri had caught up to the standards for rising eighth graders he had found on the school system’s website. This decision also brought up a complicated question.

“Yen, what are we supposed to do about registering Ciri for school?” Geralt asked. Jaskier and Ciri were absorbed in a game of Mario Kart and were not paying attention to the conversation Geralt and Yen were having at the kitchen table. “We don’t have a birth certificate for her.”

“I know some people, if you want to...make one.” Yen said, making a strange face. “Or an adoption certificate. That might make more sense, unless you want her to be our biological child.”

“Adoption certificate is fine, I think.” Geralt said. “Why do you...never mind, I don’t want to know.” Yen was always surprising him with the concerning resources she had access to. 

“We might want to come up with an alias for Ciri, so the Nilfgaard people can’t find her as easily.” Yen said thoughtfully. “Do you have a pad of paper? I’ll write down all the things we’ll need.” 

“Ciri, if you had another name what would you want it to be?” Geralt called over the sounds of the video game. 

“Am I getting a pseudonym?” Ciri asked once Jaskier had paused the game. “Cool. Fiona is what I would tell strangers when I didn’t want them to know who I was back home. And if I had another middle name I would want it to be Genevive because that’s a cool name.” She did not elaborate on this statement.

“Ok...Fiona….Genevive Riviiowski.” Yennefer said, writing the name down on the piece of paper Geralt had provided her. “What’s your birthday?” Ciri provided it, and Yennefer put that information down, as well as Jaskier and Geralt’s full names. Geralt signed, and Jaskier came over to do so as well once they had reached a decent stopping point in the game.

“What do we do if they find out we’ve forged this?” he asked, his eyebrows creasing together.

“They won’t find out.” Yennefer said matter-of-factly, folding the paper up and tucking it into her back pocket. “I’ll have this back to you in a week. You know what, I’ll go visit my friend and take care of this right now.” She stood and flounced out of the door.

“Why didn’t Calanthe just send Ciri with appropriate documents?” Geralt muttered, rubbing his face. “I trust Yen, but forgery is a lot.” Jaskier gave his shoulder a squeeze. 

“We just have to accept that for the next five years, we’ll be allowing an illegal child to attend school.” he said. “Want to come play Mario Kart with us?” Geralt did want to play Mario Kart with them. It would be good to forget about all the things going on for a moment.

A week passed. Yennefer arrived with an authentic-looking adoption certificate and an official note from a doctor in Cintra saying that Ciri, or Fiona, had gotten her full course of vaccinations. Geralt assumed that Yen had checked with Ciri to ensure the validity of it before getting that note, but he wasn’t sure. He filled out the forms to enroll her for September and spent the night afterwards tossing and turning, unable to sleep for all the anxious thoughts passing through his head. A few days later, they got a call from the counselor at Sodden Middle School to talk about where “Fiona” was in the course of her studies and how that, “great tragedy that so cruelly uprooted her life,” had affected her “assimilation” to normal life. Jaskier had taken the phone for that one and had soon charmed the counselor into understanding that Ciri had gone through a lot of trauma and could probably use some therapy, and of  _ course _ they had a stable family structure, why was the counselor concerned that Fiona’s dads were a singer-songwriter-barista and a contractor/construction worker? Those were stable careers. Oh, and did he know that Fiona loved math? Did he want to hear about Fiona’s math skills? Geralt suspected that the counselor had come away from that phone call overwhelmed by the wealth of information Jaskier had provided about “Fiona”. 

May turned into June, and Triss Merigold arrived from Temeria. Her flight was exceptionally early, which was a first for the airport, and Yen was still working when she landed, so Geralt went to the airport to pick Triss up. Jaskier and Ciri had both wanted to come, but Geralt decided that if the Nilfgaard agents were watching anywhere for renegade Cintrans, the airport would be the first place they would look. He also felt that he needed to get Triss’ promise that she would not reveal a word about Ciri’s presence in their lives before she saw Ciri. 

The drive to the airport was not a long one. It was early afternoon, and the traffic outside of the arrivals doors was moving along better than usual. Geralt drove with the windows down, allowing the beautifully warm air to ruffle across his hair and carry the sounds of the pop station the radio was turned to over the lanes of traffic. Geralt would never admit it in front of Jaskier or Ciri, but he really did enjoy the music they made him listen to and he rarely changed the station once one or the other person was out of the car. He pulled into the line of cars and rubbed his hands over the texture of his steering wheel. Triss wasn’t outside yet. The radio turned to a song Geralt vaguely recognized, and he hummed along absently, not quite sure of the words. He knew this was a song that Ciri and Jaskier would have screamed along to. The line moved along, and he spotted Triss standing next to a big, square suitcase. She was wearing a knee-length floral dress that swished in the wind, and her hair was escaping from her bun, curls falling into her face. Geralt pulled up to the curb and got out of the car.

“Geralt, hello!” Triss said cheerfully, going to give him a hug. “It’s been a long time!”

“Hi, Triss.” Geralt said, returning the embrace. “Do you want me to get your suitcase?”

“Oh, I’ve got it.” Triss said. Geralt went around the car and opened the trunk for her, and she heaved it into the back and leaned her backpack against it. They got into the car and continued around the loop of the pick-up line. “How are you? Yen has been vague about what you’ve been up to in the past months.”

“A lot has been happening.” Geralt sighed. They pulled up to a red stoplight, and Geralt turned to look at her. “You need to promise me something, Triss.” Triss looked worried.

“Ok…” she said, her lips twisting in concern.

“You cannot tell anyone about what I am about to tell you.” Geralt said. “Not Foltest, not anyone else in your and Yen’s little circle. No one.”

“Geralt, what did you do?” 

“Promise. I swear this is nothing illegal.” 

“I...I didn’t think that.” Triss sighed. “I promise I will reveal what you are about to tell me to no one. And that means no one. I keep my word, Geralt Riviiowski.” 

“I trust you.” Geralt said. He lowered his voice as if the Nilfgaard agents were sitting in the trunk listening. “Yen said your group has heard the rumors about the Lion Cub of Cintra. That she escaped, and that Fringilla Vigo is looking for her.” 

“Yes…” Triss said. “Geralt, did you–”

“She’s staying in Jaskier and my apartment.” Geralt said. The light became green, and he turned back to the road. “We’re looking after her, and keeping her safe. Calanthe sent her to us, to me. What I think is after Pavetta’s betrothal banquet all those years ago, she decided that I was the protector of her family.”

“You did manage to stop an all-out brawl and protect her daughter from disgrace.” Triss said. “So, she’s been there for two months?” Geralt nodded. “Do you have official documents saying she’s your daughter?”

“Yen drew an adoption certificate up for us a few weeks ago, when I registered her for school.” Geralt said. 

“Oh, Yen.” Triss twisted her hands in her lap. “Calanthe thought right. This is the last place Nilfgaard would look for Cirilla.” 

“Hmm.” 

“You really have had a busy handful of months.” Triss said. “Congratulations on finally asking Jaskier out, by the way. Yen told me. Eight years of pining, finally realized.” 

“Something like that.” Geralt said, smiling. They pulled into the parking garage and rode the elevator up to Yen’s floor. Yen had entrusted her spare key to Geralt a few years ago, just in case. Her apartment was small, as suited a single woman whose friends either didn’t mind sleeping on the couch or could afford to spend on a hotel when they came to visit. A Frida Kahlo painting of large white flowers hung on the facing wall, looking over a black leather couch and a large TV framed by two bookshelves. It had not changed much from the apartment Geralt and Yen had lived in together, all those years ago. The rug in the living room was round and dark blue now, and Yen had redone the kitchen to be sleek and mostly decorated with black tile, but her chairs were still the same bizarre modern shape they had been, and the photographs on the bookshelves had changed very little. Triss tucked her suitcase into the corner between the bookshelf and the wall, threw her backpack onto the couch, and turned back to Geralt.

“Are we going to go up to your apartment now, or are we just going to stand in Yen’s living room until she gets home?” she asked.

“Whatever you want to do, but I think I should go make sure Jaskier and Ciri haven’t burned the apartment down.” Geralt said. Triss laughed, and they went upstairs. They were two doors down when they started to hear the pounding bass reverberating from somewhere. Geralt sighed. “I thought I could trust them.” he said. It grew louder as they approached the apartment, and when they were outside of the door, it was distinctly clear that the music was coming from Geralt’s apartment. Based on the thumping sounds under the dulcet tones of Natalie Horler, Jaskier and Ciri were engaged in a mini-rave. Triss looked extremely worried, but Geralt sighed and opened the door. They were hit by a wall of eurodance beats and colorful lights. Geralt deeply regretted getting Jaskier the strobe light machine for his birthday all those years ago. 

“ _ Cause everytime we touch! I get! This feeling! And everytime we kiss! I swear I can fly! Can’t you feel my heart beat fast! I want this to last! I need you by my side! _ ” It was less singing and more screaming. Geralt covered his ears, gritted his teeth, and went to turn off the strobe.

“Oh, hi, Geralt!” Jaskier yelled over the music. Ciri clambered over the back of the couch, which she had been standing on, and turned the speaker off. Triss turned the lights on. Shockingly, Ciri and Jaskier were wearing normal clothes, although Ciri was wearing a pair of Geralt’s sunglasses, which were comically large on her face. 

“I swear, if we get a complaint from the neighbors  _ again _ , I’m going to…” Geralt waved his hands, searching for an acceptable punishment, “...confiscate the speaker.” Jaskier hopped down from the couch and came over to give Geralt a kiss on the cheek. 

“Geralt, you love me, don’t you?” he whispered. “You’ll forgive me for my terrible crime, won’t you?”

“I will not be bribed by these solicitations.” Geralt declared, grabbing Jaskier around the waist and flipping him onto the couch. His boyfriend squealed and rolled down onto the floor. “I apologize for my family.” he said to Triss. Ciri had tucked herself into the corner of the couch and was watching Triss with a suspicious look on her face. “Ciri, this is Triss. She’s one of Yen’s old college friends.” Triss smiled and waved awkwardly.

“Hi.” Ciri muttered, pushing the sunglassed up onto her head. Jaskier sat up and ran his hand through his hair. 

“Hi, Triss.” he said. “It’s been a while.” 

“It really has, hasn’t it?” Triss said. “When was the last time I came to visit? Five years ago?” 

“I think about that.” Geralt said. “We were in this apartment.”

“I really need to talk to Foltest about how much leave he gives me.” Triss sighed, sitting on the other end of the couch. Geralt sat next to Ciri, and Jaskier moved over to sit in between his legs. “Affairs of state are important, but I need to get out sometimes.”

“You do basically control the entire country.” Jaskier pointed out, and Triss made a face at him.

“I do not.” she said. “I merely...guide how things happen.” 

“That sounds like controlling the entire country.” Geralt said, running his fingers through Jaskier’s hair. 

“Oh, stop it, you two.” Triss said. “How are you liking living here in Sodden, Ciri?” 

“It’s good.” Ciri mumbled, staring down at her hands. “I like it.” 

“Are you in school?” Triss asked, then shook her head. “No, I suppose the term ended a few weeks ago. At least it did in Temeria.” 

“We were homeschooling her.” Geralt said. “Just so she’s caught up when she starts in September.” 

“What’s your favorite subject?” Triss was clearly searching for a good topic for talking to children.

“History.” Ciri whispered.

“History was my favorite in school too.” Triss said. “I guess that’s how I got interested in politics. Do you know what you want to...no, I suppose that was planned for you.” Roach crept into the living room and hopped up onto the couch to investigate Triss. “Hi, Roachie.” Triss said, scratching her behind the ears. “Did you miss me?” Roach accepted her pets, then went to sit on Geralt’s lap. “Apparently not.”

“No one comes before Geralt in Roach’s mind.” Jaskier said, reaching his arm around to stroke Roach on the side. “He is the supreme deity of this apartment, followed closely by Ciri.” 

“Roach loves you.” Geralt said. “Don’t you, Roach?” Roach answered by sticking her paw into Jaskier’s hair.

“I’ll take it.” Jaskier said. There was a knock on the door, and Ciri leapt up to answer it. It was Yennefer.

“Triss, I knew I’d find you here.” she said, coming into the living room. Triss stood up and embraced her friend. “How was the flight?”

“Oh, just fine.” Triss said. “Nothing eventful happened, and Geralt got to the airport right on time.”

“He always does.” Yen said. “Boys, Ciri, I hope you don’t mind me taking Triss away for the moment. You’re coming to dinner, right?”

“Of course we are.” Geralt said. “We’ll see you then.” The women left the apartment arm in arm. “You don’t need to be scared of Triss, Ciri.” Geralt said gently. “She won’t tell anyone about you.”

“I know.” Ciri said, coming to sit on the couch and scratching Roach behind the ears. “I’m just...I don’t know. New people make me nervous.” 

“That’s ok.” Geralt said. “It’ll take time to get comfortable again. When you start school, they’ll have free resources to help you with that. I’ve been looking into therapy for you and...our insurance, such as it is, doesn’t cover enough of the cost of therapists in this area.” He had spent a few long nights hunting through the lists of local therapists and growing more discouraged. 

“Oh.” Ciri looked like she hadn’t thought about that, and Geralt realized for the first time that Ciri had always had constant access to anything she could want or need. He wasn’t sure if he had truly processed that he and Jaskier were two people who had spent most of their adult lives struggling to make ends meet and who were now raising a princess. 

“We’ll figure it out.” Geralt promised. “Together.”

“Together.” Ciri repeated, and smiled. 

\------

Geralt and Jaskier’s work schedules had changed somewhat, but Thursdays remained the day when Ciri went to Yennefer’s apartment. These days, without schoolwork to do, they were having what Yennefer referred to as “girl time”. This generally involved putting on makeup or doing their nails and talking about whatever they felt like talking about. Ciri was a little apprehensive for this Thursday, because Yennefer had to go into the shop and was leaving Ciri with Triss. Geralt and Yennefer had both assured Ciri that Triss was a good friend and had been for years, and that she didn’t need to be afraid of her, but that didn’t change Ciri’s inability to stop herself from being anxious around Triss. She had settled into a mindset that anyone could be an agent of Nilfgaard, and that people from Nilfgaard could be lurking around any corner. Due to this, Triss’ first hour being in the apartment was spent sitting in Geralt’s armchair and watching as Ciri went through the only long form she knew over and over, in order to not have to talk to her.

“Ciri, do you–” 

“TAY, tay-t-TAY!” Ciri slashed through the air, her side hands much more aggressive than she usually made them, and looked up at Triss, staying in her bow stance.

“Do you want to go out to a café and get something to drink?” Triss continued, looking a little startled by Ciri’s shouts.

“No.” Ciri said. “I’m training.” Tired of Four Doorways, she dove into her short kata with vigour. 

“Training can wait, can’t it? I think we should go out and get some fresh air.” Triss said. Ciri executed a double kick and accidentally hit the wall. There was an ominous thud, and Triss stood up. “All right, that’s enough of this. Does Geralt really let you do that inside the apartment?”

“Sometimes.” Ciri said stubbornly. “Where else am I supposed to practice?”

“At the gym.” Triss suggested. “Go put your shoes on, we’re going out.” Ciri folded her arms and glared at Triss. 

“You’re just trying to take me to the Nilfgaard people.” she said. “Well, I’m not falling for it. I know what your friends did to Jaskier to get at me. Geralt and Yennefer might trust you, but I’m not stupid. I survived on my own for a month, and you can’t trick me into falling into the trap.” Triss, who was in the process of picking up her sandals from the mat, turned and stared at Ciri.

“What was that about Jaskier?” she asked. “I don’t work for Nilfgaard. I would never do that. Do you think Geralt would have let me in here if I did?”

“You could have deceived him.” Ciri said, squinting. “I’ve read Jaskier’s spy novels. I know what you get up to. And you ought to know what your people did. Or is that another trick?” Triss put her sandals back down and went to sit on the couch. Ciri dropped into a fighting stance, watching her with suspicion. 

“I didn’t realize Vigo and her people had come here.” Triss said. “I am not working with them, Ciri. Geralt made me promise to not tell anyone about you, and I am a woman of my word. Even if I were not afraid that Geralt would tear me limb from limb if I ever breathed a word, I would not tell anyone. We don’t have to go out. I’m sorry I suggested it. Geralt didn’t tell me, although I suspect he didn’t tell me because he knew I would throw a fit and insist on you going somewhere else. Which I think I’ll talk to him about, but I know Geralt. He won’t let me take you away from him.” Ciri relaxed but stayed where she was. “What happened to Jaskier?” Triss asked cautiously. 

“Two months ago a bunch of Nilfgaard people shot him in an alley.” Ciri said. “I think they mugged him, too. They were looking for me.” 

“Oh.” Triss’ eyes went wide. “Maybe I do need to talk to Geralt.” Ciri folded her arms and glared. “Ciri, if Jaskier was shot that means they’ll stop at nothing to get at you. They know Geralt and Jaskier are looking after you–”

“They don’t know for  _ certain. _ ”

“–and that means they’ll find you eventually. You’re not  _ safe _ here. And anyways, how are two men who I don’t think had any sisters supposed to raise a teenage girl?”

“Yennefer’s downstairs.” Ciri said. “It’s not that different from being a boy!”

“What about, I don’t know, periods?” 

“Yennefer knows about that!” Ciri tried to copy the look Geralt did when he wanted the teens to listen to him. “She taught me how to use tampons right. And Geralt doesn’t care about buying them. Eist didn’t either.” She was frustrated with Triss’ underestimation of her guardians. What did she know about men parenting? 

“Can you talk to them about that kind of thing or do you have to go to Yen?” Triss asked. 

“I haven’t needed to yet.” Ciri said stubbornly. “But I will!” She didn’t know if she would ask Geralt something like that, but Jaskier seemed like the kind of person who would know something like that. 

“Ok.” Triss said. “Ok. I’ll still talk to Geralt. That will be good. Yes.” She sighed. “I didn’t realize things were so crazy over here. Yen and Geralt didn’t say anything.” Ciri returned to the couch and perched on the opposite arm.

“If you really want to drink things, we have orange juice in the fridge.” she said. “And I think the Capri-Suns Jaskier bought last week are still there.”

“Capri...never mind.” Triss shook her head. “I’d love some water, thank you.” Ciri filled her a glass and extracted a juice pouch from the mostly empty box. They sat drinking their respective liquids in silence. Roach came in and settled herself on top of Ciri’s feet, purring. “What were you working on in history?”

“We were doing modern history.” Ciri said. “The last thing in the textbook is talking about the Scoia'tael and...stuff like that.”

“Hmm, that’s more modern than I’d expect.” Triss said.

“Jaskier and I watched a Drunk History about it.” Ciri said, then realized that Triss would probably not approve of Drunk History. 

“Oh.” Triss didn’t comment. “Is there anything you want to learn more about? I was a history and political science double major, you know.” 

“I want to know about the old battles.” Ciri said, leaning across the couch. “Like, the Great Cleansing. What was that all about?”

“My senior thesis was all about the Great Cleansing.” Triss said. “Here, let me run and get my laptop, and we can go through my slide presentation.” She hopped up and disappeared out of the apartment.”

“I don’t think she’s working for Nilfgaard.” Ciri confided to Roach. “But we do have to be careful. Geralt said.” She picked up the cat and hugged her, waiting for Triss to return and teach her everything she wanted to know. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have plotted this story before reading the first three books and realizing how cool Triss is in the books (not that she's not cool in the show! She's just really cool in the books!) and tragically I could only shove her into a single chapter, which is a terrible shame. Next fic she's in I'll give her due time to do her thing, that's a Tam guarantee.


	9. You children bold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciri goes to school!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title is from "Welly Boots", another TAD song that I LOVE. This chapter was really fun for me to write because man, middle school was a wild time. Also, I based their outfits off of a really good art of Jask and Geralt and Yen going to a parent-teacher conference I saw once but now I can't find it and I'm so sad. If you see it floating around tumblr a) you'll probably know it's the one b) please please let me know I desire to credit the genius who drew it! Thank you so much for reading!!!!

“Geralt! Jaskier! Look at this picture Triss just sent me!” Ciri came marching into the living room with her phone outstretched. “It’s a cat that lives in the café next to her apartment!” In the month since Triss has visited, Ciri and Triss had been texting almost constantly. Jaskier had no idea how they had gone from awkwardly sitting on opposite ends of the couch to calling at least once a week and sending each other pictures. Geralt took the phone, and Jaskier craned his head around to look at the screen. The picture was of a very fluffy black cat sitting at a table and squinting at the viewer.

“Cute.” Geralt said. “Maybe someday we should go visit Triss.”

“Yes!” Ciri said cheerfully.

“We could road trip it.” Jaskier said thoughtfully. “Go visit my old college friends in Redainia. We’d have to make sure to steer clear of certain pubs in Oxenfurt, though.”

“Why?” Ciri asked.

“Don’t get him started about Valdo Marx again.” Geralt sighed. “Don’t you get started about Valdo Marx.” he added, glaring at Jaskier. 

“Babe, I wasn’t going to get started about Valdo Marx.” Jaskier said archly. “He is a coward and a buffoon, and I have washed my hands of him.” 

“They were rival songwriters in university.” Geralt explained with a sigh. “Sometimes he goes on long rants about him. Now is not one of those times.” Jaskier, who was fully prepared to give Ciri the long and convoluted story about why he hated Valdo Marx so much, hid his sulking by leaning his chin on Geralt’s shoulder. 

“How are we feeling about this meeting with Ciri’s homeroom teacher?” he said, changing the subject. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had to talk to a school official.” Ciri and Geralt were both silent. “That’s a great response.” Jaskier said. “I feel really great about being the only person who has feelings about the meeting we’re going to in–” He checked his phone. “–less than an hour.”

“I’m anxious.” Ciri admitted. “What if he doesn’t think I should be in school? What if he finds out we forged my papers? What if–”

“We will be fine.” Geralt said, resting his hand on her shoulder. “We shouldn’t be worried.”

“How long does it take to drive to the school?” Jaskier asked. 

“Fifteen minutes.” Geralt said automatically. “I checked. Multiple times.” 

“Of course you did.” Jaskier said affectionately.

“Do you think he’ll care that you’re not married?” Ciri wondered. “Is that a thing that officials care about? That counselor asked about our stable family structure; is that what he meant?”

“I think that was just him looking at our jobs and worrying that one of us is a drunk or whatever.” Jaskier said.

“Jask.” Geralt said, raising an eyebrow.

“Well that’s what he  _ meant _ .” Jaskier said. “I’m just stating the truth.” He received a kick in the ankle for that. They sat in quiet anxiety for a moment.

“Do you think we should dress up for this meeting?” Jaskier asked. “To make this man think we really are stable adults who can handle raising a kid?” 

“It’s just a casual meeting.” Geralt said slowly. “I don’t know.” They looked over each other’s outfits. Geralt was wearing a gray henley and black skinny jeans that Jaskier had bought him years ago, and Jaskier was wearing lavender Bermuda shorts and a light blue floral button-up shirt. 

“I think you look like you’re planning on going to completely different events in completely different seasons.” Ciri commented. She was wearing short jean shorts and a t-shirt featuring a cat wearing sunglasses and the words ‘Check Meowt’ printed across it in glittery letters. “It’s probably fine.”

“We look like adults and that’s good enough for me.” Jaskier said. He glanced at the clock on the DVR. “We should probably get going if we want to be on time.” They stood as a group, Ciri tucking her phone into her back pocket, and headed down to the car.

The drive to the middle school was quiet, other than the radio playing the latest hits. Jaskier watched the buildings going by and drummed his fingers on his knee. He wondered if Geralt had remembered to bring his fidget cube. It wouldn’t make them look like a professional adult couple in the eyes of the teacher, but in that respect Jaskier didn’t really give a shit. The parking lot was large, and it made the handful of cars scattered about it seem miles apart. As they walked towards the double doors of the building, Jaskier slipped his hand into Geralt’s and squeezed. Ciri had walked ahead of them and was waiting impatiently just inside of the school lobby when they caught up with her. They walked into the office, and the woman behind the desk smiled at them. 

“What can I do for you?” she said. 

“We’re here to meet with... _ damnit, Geralt, what’s his name _ ?” Jaskier had been looking at the email barely half an hour ago. How had he forgotten so quickly?

“Mr. Lewis.” Ciri provided.

“Oh, of course! The Riviiowskis, right?” the woman said, smiling. “I have you written down here on this little calendar I have.” She tapped something behind the desk. “Just sign into the computer and it’ll print you out visitor badges.” Ciri marched over to the computer and began typing while Jaskier and Geralt stood, watching her awkwardly. 

“Where did you move from?” the woman asked. 

“Nowhere.” Geralt said. “We, erm, adopted C– _ Fiona _ a few months ago from Redania.” It had been a coincidence that Yennefer had picked Jaskier’s home country for the fictional Fiona’s birthplace, but it made it easier for them to craft a story for her, since Jaskier knew cities and places she could hypothetically have visited. 

“Oh, lovely.” the woman said, smiling. “I was wondering if she might be Cintran. You know, there are a lot of Cintran children who need homes. My husband and I have been thinking about opening our home up to a few.”

“Yes.” Geralt said. Ciri tore off the badges and distributed them. 

“You’ll be wanting to go up to the second floor.” the woman said. “Room 234.”

“Thank you.” Jaskier said, smiling, and Ciri led the way out of the office and to the stairs. It was a newer school building, and the walls were free of the random graffiti that Jaskier remembered from his middle school days. The bulletin boards were empty, although someone was in the process of creating a ‘Welcome Back to School, 8th Grade’ display at the top of the stairs. Ciri regarded the cartoon sun in its sunglasses with distaste. Mr. Lewis’ room was tucked into a corner of the hall. He was the world geography teacher, and had a cartoon globe with his name on it over the window of the door. Geralt knocked, and they stepped back as a group, huddling together in anxious anticipation. Jaskier could feel Geralt’s hand tightening in his own, and he gave him a comforting squeeze.

“Just a second!” a voice called from inside of the classroom. Ciri went to lurk behind Geralt. There was the sound of shoes against tile, and the door opened. 

Mr. Lewis was a small, balding, white man with brown hair and wire-rimmed glasses. He was wearing gray, perfectly creased dress pants and a dark blue tie. He looked exactly like every history teacher Jaskier had ever had. When he saw them, he smiled, but Jaskier could tell from his eyes that he had not been expecting what he was getting. 

“Julien Alfred Pankratz.” Jaskier said, dropping Geralt’s hand and going forward to shake Mr. Lewis’s hand. “This is my...partner...Geralt Riviiowski.” Geralt gave the proffered hand a firm shake, and Mr. Lewis winced almost imperceptibly. 

“Did Fiona come?” he asked, tucking his crushed hand back into his pocket. “I was hoping…”

“Fiona, stop hiding behind Ge–behind  _ Dad _ , and come meet your homeroom teacher.” Jaskier said jovially. Ciri slouched out from behind Geralt and accepted the handshake Mr. Lewis gave her. 

“Hi.” she mumbled, staring down at her shoes. 

“Why don’t you all come inside and we can talk about what to expect this year.” Mr. Lewis said, smiling. Jaskier gently herded Ciri in front of him, and they followed Mr. Lewis to his desk, where three chairs were set up. Ciri took the middle one and began knocking her toes against the desk. “Mr. Pankratz and I,” Jaskier had to physically restrain himself from asking to be called Julien, “–talked a little bit on the phone, but I’d love to hear from you, Fiona, what you’re looking forward to this year, and what kinds of things you did in school back home in Redania. I understand you’ve been homeschooling her based on the state curriculum on the website, correct?” He turned to Geralt and Jaskier, a smile on his face. 

“That’s correct.” Geralt said. “We did history through the modern era, and all of the algebra 1 content in the book I found recommended on the school system’s resource page for homeschooling, and life science.”

“And poetry.” Ciri added.

“Well, that was more informal.” Geralt admitted.

“I’d already learned the things in the standards for seventh grade English.” Ciri informed Mr. Lewis.

“Were you in the school system in Redania?” Mr. Lewis asked. “Where did you live, again?” 

“...Blaviken.” Ciri said carefully. It was Jaskier’s home village, and it was little known enough that he guessed Mr. Lewis wouldn’t know it well enough to interrogate Ciri about it.

“Oh, Blaviken!” Mr. Lewis said. “Lovely little town.” Jaskier wondered if Mr. Lewis had actually visited Blaviken, or if he had just seen it on a map. It was only a lovely little town if you went to the historical district, or if you had never seen a small town before. “How are the schools there?”

“I was homeschooled.” Ciri said. “I don’t know.” 

“Oh, of course.” Mr. Lewis said. “Were your parents following the national standards of education, or was it for religious reasons?” 

“Just didn’t fit into normal school.” Ciri said, shrugging. Mr. Lewis wrote something down and nodded.

“Hmm.” he said. “The counselor said he spoke with you, Mr. Pankratz, but did you discuss IEPs or 504 plans?”

“Nope.” Jaskier said, glancing at Geralt over Ciri’s head. “I’m not sure if that’s something we’ll need to talk about, but we’ll play it by ear.” 

“I was wondering because, if Fiona didn’t fit into normal school last time she was in regular structured school…” Mr. Lewis shrugged. Jaskier wondered how to explain Ciri’s homeschooling was the result of her family being the monarchy of a country.

“Fiona’s parents were wealthy and felt that they could provide a better education with private tutors.” Geralt said quickly. “But Fiona wanted to try public school now that she’s here living with us, didn’t you, Fiona?” Ciri shrugged. “It’ll be good for her to be around kids her own age again.” Geralt added, smiling in a way that said,  _ you understand.  _

“Oh, of course.” Mr. Lewis said, smiling back. He shuffled his papers around. “What do you like to do outside of your schoolwork, Fiona?”

“Kung fu.” Ciri mumbled to the desk. Mr. Lewis’ eyebrows went up to what had once been his hairline.

“Kung fu!” he repeated. “That’s not something I hear about often. I’ve had a few kids who did it, but not very many, that’s for sure. Do you go to the school a few blocks from here, what’s it called, Care–”

“Kaer Morhen.” Geralt provided. 

“Geralt’s one of the teachers there.” Jaskier added, leaning across Ciri to pat Geralt’s forearm and smiling with pride.

“Oh, interesting.” Mr. Lewis said, folding his hands across his chest. “A family affair, I see.” Geralt made an affirmative grunting noise, and Ciri smiled a little bit. “What belt are you?”

“Yellow.” Ciri told the desk. “I started three months ago.”

“What else do you like to do?” Mr. Lewis asked, writing in his notebook. Ciri shuffled her feet on the tile. 

“Uh...run, ride horses but I haven’t done that since...since I moved here.” she listed. “I like playing video games, too. And reading books.” 

“Oh, what books do you like to read?” Mr. Lewis smiled, and Jaskier prayed to everything that was holy that he had never heard of the books Ciri had been taking from his bookshelf. 

“I’ve been reading a lot of spy novels recently.” Ciri said slowly. “I like to read history books.” Mr. Lewis beamed, and Jaskier let out an internal sigh of relief. “The most recent book I’ve read is  _ The White Flame _ .” Jaskier retracted the sigh of relief as Mr. Lewis’ face took on a frozen expression, as if he didn’t know how to react to this revelation.

“That’s...well, that is a good one.” he said. “A little...graphic.”

“Fiona, what did I tell you about reading Dad’s special books?” Jaskier exclaimed in a terrible pantomime of responsible parenting. “Those are...definitely not appropriate for children to read.”

“Sorry.” Ciri ducked her head to hide a mischiveous grin. “I liked it, though. I learned a lot about...spying.”

“Hmmm.” Geralt was clearly suppressing a laugh. “We will have to...put the books...up higher.” Ciri glared daggers at him.

“Buy child locks for the bookshelf.” Jaskier suggested. 

“Yes, well, these things do happen.” Mr. Lewis said. “We usually have a first day of school assembly that eighth graders present at about school policies, and of course that will help Fiona learn more about our school culture. The school system will send out information about busing soon, probably within the week. I will send you emails about parent-teacher conferences when those come around, and of course you are always free to email me or call if you have any questions. We’re looking forward to having Fiona here, even if it is only for a year.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lewis.” Geralt stood, and the others stood with him. Handshakes were passed around, and again Mr. Lewis’ hand was crushed by Geralt’s firm hold. 

“I’ll see you in a couple of weeks, Fiona.” Mr. Lewis said. “Have a good rest of the summer!”

“ _ Child locks on the bookshelf _ ?” Geralt whispered once they were walking down the hall. “Really, Jaskier?” 

“I think that meeting went well.” Ciri said cheerfully. “He knows that I have the power to destroy him if he gives me a bad grade.”

“I don’t think that’s how school works.” Jaskier said. “Man, I hope he doesn’t think we’re terrible parents because you read a violent and sexual adult spy novel under our supervision.”

“I’m sure he understands the perils of raising middle schoolers.” Geralt said, completely deadpan. “They know just how to get those terribly horny books, no matter where you put them.” Ciri shrieked with laughter and caused a science teacher to poke her head out of her room and stare at them. 

“We are becoming a menace at this school.” Jaskier sighed as they made their way down the stairs. “It’s a good thing we only have a year to embarrass ourselves. Imagine if we had gone the whole three years.” 

“There are four years of high school.” Ciri pointed out, hopping down the steps two at a time. “There’s still time.”

“Hooray.” Jaskier said, and Ciri cackled again.

\------

Morgan Lewis returned to his quaint suburban home at around five, and was greeted by a chorus of barks and licks from his three variously sized dogs. He hung his coat up, gave each dog a good scratch behind the ears, and greeted his wife Leslie with a kiss. He went back to his bedroom to change into jeans and a t-shirt for Oxenfurt University and wandered back into the kitchen, where Leslie was preparing lasagna. Mr. Lewis had not attended the prestigious university, but he and Leslie had gone on a bicycle tour of Redania for their honeymoon nearly thirty years ago now. He remembered that trip fondly.

“How was work today, dear?” Leslie asked. Mr. Lewis leaned around to steal a few pieces of shredded cheese.

“Good.” he said. “I planned a few lessons, went to a few meetings with Sandra, the usual. We have a professional development session about teaching underserved and marginalized youth. Oh, that reminds me. I met with the new girl and her parents today.”

“Oh, lovely!” Leslie said. “She’s the one with the two dads, correct?” 

“And what dads she has.” Mr. Lewis said. “If I had seen them walking down the street together, I would not have been able to tell you they were together. One of them was dressed, well, fairly normally, actually. A little warmer than August in Sodden calls for, maybe. The other one was wearing a terrible floral shirt and these lavender shorts.”

“Morgan, darling, you’ve seen what Steven and his friends wear.” Leslie pointed out.

“Steven and his friends are in their twenties.” Mr. Lewis said. “They’re not parents of a middle schooler.” He sighed. “They’re not  _ bad _ . Just odd. I don’t know if one of them ever made eye contact at all during the meeting. And the girl, Fiona, said she had read  _ The White Flame _ , and I know her dads weren’t as concerned as they ought to have been. I’m not stupid. I can tell when someone is pretending.” It hadn’t been too hard to discern that Mr. Pankratz was not being sincere at all in his horror at Fiona’s reading choices, but he didn’t mention that. 

“They sound like they’re probably….alternative.” Leslie searched for the right words. “You mentioned that one of her dads is a barista and a musician?”

“Yeah, the floral one.” Mr. Lewis said. “And her other dad is a contractor–construction, not government–and a kung fu instructor. I bet he could crush my whole head between one of his hands. Big and silent type, you know.” 

“Mhmm.” Leslie bent to check on the lasagna in the oven. “Sounds like you’ll have a fun year.”

“I suppose.” Mr. Lewis said. He watched Leslie take the lasagna out and set it down on the counter to cool. “She’s from Blaviken, by the way.” he added, remembering abruptly. 

“Oh, Blaviken!” Leslie said. “What a quaint little town. You should ask her if she’s been to the Wizard’s Tower. I loved that tour. And the woods around, oh, they were beautiful. I didn’t really enjoy the tour of the Witcher’s Hollow, though. It was too...spooky for my taste.” 

“I didn’t like when that boy sang lewd songs at us while we were trying to admire the statue of Stregobor.” Mr. Lewis remembered. “I want to know if Fiona knows where I can find him. How old would he be? In his forties? I want to hunt him down and give him what for after that one verse he shouted after me.” 

“He was probably only twelve, Morgan.” Leslie shook her head and smiled. “I can’t believe you still think about that. He’d be embarrassed by it now, and I doubt he would remember you. He’s probably married and settled down with a couple of children.”

“I suppose.” Mr. Lewis would not forget about that boy until the day he died. “It’s time for lasagna.” Leslie agreed.

\------

“Are you nervous?” Geralt asked as they slowly inched along the line of cars dropping kids off at the middle school. Ciri watched the school draw closer and hugged her bulging backpack. It was dark purple, and she had convinced Geralt to sew on an applique of a princess holding a sword and riding a unicorn she had found in the same store the backpack had come from. 

“A little.” Ciri was terrified. What if she screwed everything up and introduced herself as Ciri to someone? What if one of the teachers was working for Nilfgaard? She wasn’t worried about the other kids. She was the Lion Cub of Cintra. Her grandmother was notorious for being ferocious on and off the battlefield. She could deal with a group of middle schoolers. 

“You’ll be just fine.” Geralt said. “Middle school is scary, but you can handle it. You’re smart and you’re capable.”

“I’m not worried about middle school.” Ciri admitted. They pulled around the curve of the parking lot, and the front doors loomed, accepting the streams of children walking towards them. “What if Nilfgaard figured out that I’m going to school?”

“They won’t try to do anything in the building.” Geralt said calmly. “If anything happens, call me or Jaskier, or Yen. I’m not working at any sites today, so I’m a better option. If none of us answer, call Master Vesemir.” 

“Ok.” Ciri ran her fingers over her unicorn patch. 

“Do you have your schedule?”

“It’s right here.” Ciri tried her best to pat her back pocket while still sitting down. Geralt nodded. They drew parallel to the curb, and he leaned across the center console to give her a quick kiss on the top of her head.

“Have a good day.” he said. “Jaskier is going to come pick you up at 2:45.” 

“Bye.” Ciri jumped out of the car and slung her backpack onto her back. She took a deep breath and began the walk into the building, pulling her schedule out of her pocket. The first period of the day was homeroom, and she remembered exactly how to get to Mr. Lewis’ classroom. There were rows of pairs of desks filling the classroom, and many of them were already filled with people who clearly already knew each other. One person was sitting alone, reading a thick book. Ciri marched over to him. 

“Hi, can I sit here?” she asked. The kid looked up at her. He was wearing a dark green beanie and a big sweatshirt.

“Sure.” he said, and Ciri plonked down at the desk, slinging her backpack onto the back of the chair.

“I’m C–I’m Fiona.” Ciri caught herself just in time. “Fiona Riviiowski. What’s your name?”

“Dara Ellsworth.” the boy said. He returned to his book, and Ciri let him with some reluctance. She peered over his shoulder to see what he was reading and discovered that it was a fantasy book she had seen Geralt reading.

“My dad likes that book.” she said. “Well, one of my dads.” 

“Cool.” Dara didn’t look up from his reading. Ciri huffed quietly and stared around the room. There was a huge map of the world above the whiteboard, and posters from different countries arranged by geographic location. She spotted a poster of her grandmother from an old series they had produced after the first war with Nilfgaard, and a poster for Oxenfurt University. Next to the Oxenfurt poster was another poster begging its viewers to, ‘Visit the Wizard’s Tower!’, which was what must have once been a majestic tower and what was now a crumbling pile of stone and vines, and next to that was a print of a painting of a man and a woman having a sword fight in the middle of dense forest. Ciri wondered what it was, and hoped that it wasn’t something she ought to know about. 

The desks were almost filled when Mr. Lewis finally entered the room. He was wearing almost exactly the same outfit he had been two weeks previously, except his tie was light pink. The low murmur that permeated the classroom did not change whatsoever, and Dara continued to focus on his book. It was nothing like the handful of teen movies Ciri had watched, where the students became silent the moment the teacher walked in the classroom. She wondered if her grandmother had hand selected the films to give her a flawed impression of public school. 

“Good morning, class.” Mr. Lewis said, raising his voice over the talking. “Welcome to your first day of eighth grade!” The chatter died down a little, and Dara looked up briefly from his book. “My name is Mr. Lewis and I’ll be your homeroom and world geography teacher.” Mr. Lewis continued. “First things first, I want you to take these pieces of cardstock,” He handed a stack of material to the girl on the end of the first row. “Fold them hot dog style, and write your name that you want to be called on it. You can decorate it however you like!” Ciri wrote ‘Fiona Riviiowski’ in big bold letters with a purple Sharpie and propped her name tag up on the front of her. She had no idea what ‘hot dog style’ meant, but her paper was folded in the same way as the other kids’, so she supposed she had done it right. 

“Very good.” Mr. Lewis said, collecting the extra cardstock from a lanky kid wearing impeccably clean, white basketball shoes. “Now, I’m going to give you a lot of important pieces of paper, so make sure you don’t lose them!” Ciri rummaged through her backpack and pulled out a folder as Mr. Lewis began passing pieces of paper to the girl in the front. Public school involved more paper than she had expected. 

The day went by like a blur, and suddenly it was lunch. Ciri’s first three periods were geometry, English, and science, and she received even more papers to bring home for Geralt or Jaskier to sign. She wondered what would happen if she got Yennefer to sign a paper. What constituted legal guardianship? She went to her locker, which she had received during homeroom and which was in the very center of the hallway, and retrieved her lunch box. Dara was at his locker, and she marched over to him.

“Do you want to sit with me at lunch?” she asked. Dara stared at her, his book clutched in his hands. 

“I guess.” he said, as if he didn’t really understand why Ciri was talking to him. They began the walk down the hall to the stairs and the lunch room. “You’re new.” Dara said as they joined the throng of kids with second period lunch. 

“I moved here a few months ago.” Ciri said. “From Redania.”

“Mr. Lewis will like you.” Dara said. “He loves Redania for some reason. He and his wife went on a honeymoon there and now he gets really excited when we get to the Redania unit. At least, that’s what my sisters say.”

“Cool.” Ciri would have to interrogate Jaskier about Redanian history. “I’m from a tiny little town, so I don’t think he’ll know it. He said he did when my dads and I went to talk to him, but I think he was just pretending to be polite.”

“Is it Blaviken?” Dara asked. “The town with the Wizard’s Tower?”

“Oh no.” Ciri sighed. “It’s historically significant, isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah.” Dara said. “Stregobor the First’s tower is there. It’s where he carried out his Black Sun experiments.”

“Oh, right.” Ciri remembered learning about Stregobor the First from her history tutor. “I hate that man. Fuck him.” Dara looked around as if Stregobor was lurking in the corner of the hallway. They reached the cafeteria.

“I get lunch from the line, but you can go find us a table.” Dara said. “Here, um, take my book.” He handed her the book, and Ciri strode out into the cafeteria. It was loud. She had not been expecting this level of noise. There was a mostly empty table in the far corner, and Ciri claimed it, setting Dara’s book down next to her lunch box. She had packed it the night before, but when she opened it she discovered that Jaskier and Geralt had amended it. There was a container of carrots and cucumber slices and a yogurt smoothie to supplement the incredibly thick ham sandwich and cheese stick she had packed, along with a folded piece of paper, which alternated between a barely readable and shockingly loopy script and carefully formed letters that were only a few degrees away from being a computer font. 

_ Dearest Fiona, have a most delightful and diverting first day of public education. Remember to eat vegetables and drink plenty of water. Don’t do anything Geralt wouldn’t do. Try and make a new friend today. Love, Geralt and Jaskier. _ Ciri smiled and tucked the note into her pocket. She would treasure it forever. She was digging into her sandwich when Dara came back, carrying a tray of spaghetti and an apple. 

“Do you want a carrot?” Ciri asked through a mouthful of bread and meat. “I wasn’t going to have vegetables but my dad decided he would take my health into his own hands.” 

“Sure.” Dara accepted the gift. “What’s it like having two dads?”

“Normal.” Ciri said, shrugging. She wasn’t really sure what normal parenting was, but she guessed that Jaskier and Geralt were normal parents. “What’s it like having a mom and a dad?” 

“Normal.” Dara said, smiling behind his milk carton. “Do you have any siblings?”

“No.” Ciri said. “You have sisters, right?”

“Two older, one younger.” Dara sighed. “Both of my sisters went here and they had most of the same teachers I did. A few of theirs retired or moved to different cities, but most of them are the same. It sucks.” He slurped up a noodle.

“Hmm.” Ciri said. “I wouldn’t know.” She folded up her plastic bag and took a swig of yogurt drink. “What’s your book about?”

“A dragon hunt.” Dara said. “These people are going on a quest for a dragon and all of them want the dragon for different reasons. It’s the second book in a series.”

“What happens in the first book?” Ciri wondered.

“One of the main characters learns she has magic powers and goes to school to become the most powerful sorceress in the world, and the other character goes around killing monsters with his best friend.” Dara said. “It’s about them meeting.” 

“Cool.” Ciri said. “I’ll have to borrow it from my dad. He won’t mind. Well, he minded the last book I borrowed from my other dad, but I’m sure if you’re reading this one it’s fine.” 

“It’s kind of violent, but I didn’t tell my mom that.” Dara said, grinning. Ciri grinned back. “What was the last book you borrowed?”

“A  _ really _ violent spy book. There was a lot of sex in it too.” Ciri said. “It was really good and I liked it a lot, but I accidentally told Mr. Lewis I was reading it in our meeting and he was scandalized. It was really funny and Geralt and Jaskier and I thought it was hilarious.”

“You call your dads by their first names?”

“They’re not  _ really _ my dads.” Ciri said, tossing her head. “I’ve only lived with them for a few months. My real dad died a long time ago, when I was really little.”

“Oh.” Dara looked serious. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t remember him. It’s ok.” Ciri said. She needed to turn the conversation away from her family. “What other things do you like to read?”

When Jaskier picked her up after school, her backpack was much lighter and she was feeling better about the concept of public school. There was no way Nilfgaard could find her among the sheer amount of children that wandered the halls of Sodden Middle School.

“You look like you had a good day.” Jaskier commented when she flopped into the passenger seat and buckled her seatbelt. “No sign of evil spies sneaking through the halls?”

“None at all.” Ciri said cheerfully. “I made a friend, and I like most of my teachers, and in gym class I destroyed the other team at kickball.” 

“That’s my girl.” Jaskier said, moving carefully around a car parked in the center of the lane and speeding out of the parking lot.

“Oh, Jaskier, I think I need to learn things about Redanian history.” Ciri said. “Mr. Lewis is obsessed with Redania.” 

“History is my jam.” Jaskier said. “Is that what kids say these days? I can teach you all the basics tonight.” 

“He had a poster up of a wizard’s tower.” Ciri said. “Is that really where Stregobor the First lived?”

“Yeah.” Jaskier said. “Fuck him. I wrote a rude song about him once, when I was about your age. My mom let me roam the streets, and I would harass tourists with it.” Ciri giggled. “I can teach it to you, and maybe you can sing it for Mr. Lewis.” 

“Oh, he’d hate that.” Ciri said, grinning.


	10. The daughter of sightless watching stones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciri has a friend over! Geralt and Jaskier navigate the strange world of interacting with other parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's chapter title comes from "The Horror and the Wild". If you search it on YouTube there's a very cool video of them recording this song in the woods! Thank you for reading!!!! :)

Ciri had been at school for two weeks when she announced that her new friend was coming over to hang out. Geralt and Jaskier had no idea how things like this worked. 

“Do you think we should go meet Dara’s parents first?” Jaskier wondered aloud while he and Geralt were going to sleep that night. “Are they going to let their son come to a stranger’s apartment? Do you think we need to deep clean the apartment? Should we hide the inappropriate books if his parents do come by?” 

“If by inappropriate you mean the adult books that Ciri reads anyway, I think we’re fine.” Geralt mumbled into the pillow. He was used to his boyfriend speaking words out into the aether, and he had learned how to fall asleep to Jaskier’s ramblings in the first year they had lived together. “The apartment’s fine.”

“I think we should vacuum anyways.” Jaskier said. “What if Dara’s allergic to cats?” 

“I’m sure Ciri told him we have a cat.” Geralt sighed. “Why don’t you go to sleep and worry about it in the morning?”

“I’ll worry about forever.” Jaskier said. He rolled onto his side and wrapped himself around Geralt. “You’ve been using my shower gel again.” he muttered into Geralt’s hair. 

“It smells nice.” Geralt said, lacing his fingers through Jaskier’s and pulling him closer.

“I like it.” Jaskier hummed. “If you smell like that for Dara’s parents I’m sure they’ll trust you to be responsible.”

“Hmm.” 

Dara’s mom called the apartment in the middle of the next day. Geralt had been stretching after a run, and he was not happy about having to stand up from his splits and answer the phone.

“Riviiowski-Pankratz residence, Geralt speaking.” he said automatically, glancing at the sticky note Jaskier had written out a few years ago of helpful phone phrases. “What can I help you with?”

“Hi, Geralt, this is Dara’s mom. Brigid Ellsworth.” the woman on the other end of the phone said briskly. “How are you?” 

“I’m fine, thank you.” Roach hopped up onto the counter, and Geralt scratched her at the base of the tail. “How are you?”

“Fine, fine.” Brigid said. “I just wanted to call and make sure you’re ok with Dara coming over. We haven’t met before, and I know a lot of parents like to meet their kid’s friends’ parents first, but Camden is at the office all day today and I’m working from home and we both have a lot of cases to cover and, well, you know how it is.” Geralt, who had been a contractor all his life and had never worked regular nine-to-five hours, was not really sure how it was, but he wasn’t going to admit that to Brigid.

“Of course we’re ok with Dara coming over,” he said. “Jaskier, my partner, and I are really glad Fiona made a friend so fast. We were both worried she wouldn’t have anyone for a little bit.”

“Moving schools at the end of middle school is hard.” Brigid said. “Dara said you adopted her pretty recently, too, and that must have been a transition.” 

“A few months ago, yes.” Geralt said. “It was a process, but she has settled in well.” 

“I’m glad to hear it.” Brigid said. “Where did you adopt her from?”

“Redania.” Geralt said. 

“Oh, lovely!” Brigid said. “My husband and I met at Oxenfurt University. Have you been to that city? It’s a lovely place to visit.” 

“Not in a long time.” Geralt didn’t want to remember the one trip he and Jaskier had taken to visit his old stomping ground. It had resulted in Geralt’s one and only encounter with the infamous Valdo Marx and a bar fight. Those two things had been completely interconnected. “Jaskier went to Oxenfurt.” 

“Jaskier, Jaskier….Pankratz sounds familiar.” Brigid mused. “I’ll ask my husband if he remembers a Jaskier Pankratz.”

“I’m sure you would know if you remembered him.” Geralt mused, smiling to himself.

“Well, with a name like that…” Brigid laughed good-naturedly. “Well, I’d better get back to these cases. They won’t argue themselves! One of us will stop by to say hello when we pick Dara up tomorrow.” 

“That sounds good.” Geralt said. “I will see you tomorrow.”

“Or you’ll see Camden.” Brigid said jovially. “Have a nice day!”

“You, too.” Geralt set the phone back on the receiver and went to text Jaskier to let him know that everything was all worked out. He got a message back immediately.

_ Yeehaw  _ (cowboy emoji)

_ Thank you for your input. _

_ Cowboys are always important.  _ (cowboy emoji) (cowboy emoji) (kissy face)

(cowboy emoji)

_ I love you so much Geralt holy shit _

_ I love you, too  _ (kissy face) (horse face)

_ What does that MEAN _

Geralt decided to leave his boyfriend contemplating the horse, which had been complete nonsense, and returned to his stretching. 

Ciri had picked a day when Geralt and Jaskier were at home, which was either bad luck or the best decision she had made all week, depending on if you were Geralt and Jaskier or Ciri and Dara. It was Geralt’s day to pick her up, and he spent the entire wait worrying that Dara wouldn’t think he was a real dad because he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt and a leather jacket, unlike the dads in ties that surrounded him in the pick-up line. Ciri and Dara were sitting on the wall, staring down at something on Dara’s phone. Every minute or so, Ciri would look up at the line of cars, her eyes searching each seat carefully for Geralt. When she saw him, she immediately hopped up and led the way across the pavement. 

“Hi, Geralt, this is Dara.” she announced, sliding across the length of the backseat with great aplomb. 

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Riviiowski.” Dara said politely. 

“Nice to meet you too, Dara.” Geralt said, thrown a little by Dara’s greeting. “Fiona’s told us all about you.” Dinner conversation usually started with whatever Dara and Ciri had done that day. Dara had taught Ciri how to play Gwent. Dara and Ciri had gotten put on the same team for kickball. Ciri had shown Dara the backlog of videos of Jaskier’s performances on the Internet. Ciri was going to teach Dara how to play Mario Kart.

“Oh?” Dara seemed interested.

“All really good things.” Ciri insisted. “Geralt, can we play on the Wii when we get home? I don’t have any homework, honest.”

“What about the geometry packet?” Dara asked, and Ciri made a face at him.

“How much geometry do you have to do?” Geralt asked.

“Only like two pages.” Ciri said. “It’s  _ easy _ .”

“I was going to finish it.” Dara admitted. “We can do it together, and then we can do whatever. My mom’ll be mad if I didn’t finish my homework when I had the opportunity to.”

“Bugger your mom.”

“C– _ Fiona _ !” Geralt exclaimed.

“Sorry, Dara.” Ciri looked genuinely apologetic. 

“It’s ok.” Dara said. “I’ve never heard anyone say that in real life.”

“Oh, I know all kinds of fun curses.”

“And you will not be sharing them.” Geralt warned. He didn’t need word getting to Brigid Ellsworth that his daughter was teaching her son the creative curses Jaskier liked to use around the house. 

“Ger _ alt _ .” Ciri whined. “Why  _ not _ ?” Geralt frowned at her in the rearview mirror. “He’s probably going to hear them anyway.” she pointed out.

“Jaskier knows how to control himself.” Geralt said, ignoring the fact that this was a complete lie. Ciri snorted. 

“When people in my family curse, my mom makes them put coins in the swear jar.” Dara reported. “I don’t know what she’s going to do with it, but there are a lot of coins in there. My sisters curse a  _ lot _ .”

“How old are your sisters, Dara?” Geralt asked. 

“Molly’s eighteen, Caitlyn’s fifteen, and Natalie is nine.” Dara said. “Natalie dosen’t curse that much, but Molly and Caitlyn swear like sailors.” 

“Jaskier swears like...I don’t know how to explain how he curses.” Ciri said. 

“Jaskier swears like a Jaskier.” Geralt provided. “I think he makes up most of the phrases he uses.”

“What about–” 

“Fiona,  _ no _ .” They turned into the parking garage and pulled into the parking space.

“I’ve never been in an apartment building before.” Dara admitted as they piled out of the car. “All of my friends live out in the suburbs.”

“Hmm.” Geralt said. 

“Living in an apartment building is fun because you don’t have to go far to visit people, but it sucks because people come by and yell at you for being too loud.” Ciri said as they entered the elevator. “Like, a few weeks ago this old lady knocked on our door and yelled at Jaskier for playing music.” 

“Fiona has left out the fact that Jaskier was also singing along at an operatic volume while she was practicing forms, and the old lady was trying to nap.” Geralt said.

“That’s not important.” Ciri grumbled. “Ignore my father; he has no sympathy.” Geralt smiled knowingly, and Dara giggled. “Another thing about apartments is sometimes people wander around the halls doing weird things. Like the man who went to get his mail in his boxers. Or the lady who wears her silk robe everywhere.”

“Or the preteen who marched down the stairs carrying a staff and banged on someone’s door yelling about needing to borrow her drill?” Geralt asked. 

“Ger _ alt _ .” Ciri groaned. “That wasn’t  _ weird _ .”

“It certainly got written up in the weekly report.” Geralt said.

“The weekly report can suck my–” The elevator dinged open at exactly the right time, and Geralt gently steered Ciri out into the hallway.

“Apartments sound fun.” Dara said, trotting after them. “I wish things like that happened in my neighborhood. The most interesting thing is people complaining on the listserv about the most banal things.” 

“What’s a listserv?” Ciri wondered.

“It’s an email list thing that my mom gets with neighborhood news.” Dara said. “I don’t really understand it but she hears a lot of gossip on it.” 

“We should have a building listserv.” Ciri said. “I want to know what people complain about.” They reached the apartment, and Geralt knocked before putting the key in. He had learned from experience that it was important to make sure Jaskier knew people were entering the apartment so that he could put pants on or stop eating ice cream out of the carton while perched like a bird on the counter or whatever other baffling activity he was engaged in that a regular visitor to their apartment would not really want to experience. As it turned out, Jaskier was sitting on the couch writing something, and was arpeggiating through chords and humming something under his breath. Geralt put his boots on the mat and went over to kiss Jaskier on the head. 

“We’ve arrived home safe at last,” he said. Jaskier reached up and pulled Geralt down to kiss him. 

“I have been waiting for so many years, and at last you have returned.” he said. “It has been too long, my love.” 

“Ignore them.” Ciri said to Dara. “They’re embarrassing.” 

“Love is never embarrassing.” Jaskier said, flourishing his hands. “It is beautiful, and something the poets have sung of for generations.” 

“Let’s go to my room.” Ciri said. 

“I like this dad job.” Jaskier said once the kids had disappeared into Ciri’s bedroom. “It’s fun, making children laugh with glee.” Geralt patted the side of his face and went to grab a granola bar from the cupboard. When he returned to the couch, Jaskier scooted down to press up against him, propping the edge of his guitar against Geralt’s thigh. 

“What are you working on?” Geralt asked, moving his elbow around so that it wasn’t bumping against the instrument.

“Something.” Jaskier smiled at him slyly and played an arpeggio. “It’s a surprise.” 

“How is it going to be a surprise if you’re writing it right here?” 

“Haha, now you’ve caught me at my own game.” Jaskier wrinkled his nose at Geralt and received a frown for his troubles. “It’s not really a surprise. That’s the thing I finished working on when you all came home. This one’s a reflection on how things have changed since Ciri came.” He hummed something to himself, then scribbled a block of words down on the mess of a notebook page he had sitting on his lap. Geralt caught  _ ‘opened up our hearts _ ’ and ‘ _ living room rave _ ’. 

“You don’t have a performance until October, right?” he asked. “At the ren faire?” 

“Yep.” Jaskier said. “I have to spread myself out, give everyone a taste of my wonderful music.” Geralt smiled, and Jaskier returned to his songwriting with a laser focus. Geralt leaned back against the couch and listened to Jaskier mumbling tunes under his breath and plucking out chords. There was something soothing about the way his boyfriend talked to himself while he wrote songs. It was cute the way he grumbled at wrong chords and sorted through rhymes. He clicked his tongue when he was focused, and his notes were a terrible mass of words jammed in between each other and letters written on top of other letters. Geralt sometimes found the way Jaskier wrote infuriating–he was a man who liked things neat and in their places–but now, watching him whispering the words he was scrawling sideways across the lines of the paper, Geralt found his heart warmed by the mass of symbols. He folded the wrapper of his snack into a neat square and tucked it into the pocket of his jeans, not wanting to stand up and disturb the guitar resting against him, then reached over and began to absently trace his fingers through Jaskier’s thick hair. Jaskier was so focused that he didn’t react to the gentle caresses of his lover. Finally, he closed his notebook and set his guitar down on the ground. 

“Done!” he said cheerfully, whacking his hand against Geralt’s thigh. “I think it’s good.” 

“Are you going to sing it for me?” Geralt asked. Jaskier considered, then smiled impishly.

“You’ll just have to wait.” he said. “It’ll be a surprise, too.” 

“You and your surprises.” 

“It keeps me mysterious.” Jaskier said, waggling his eyebrows. “I must maintain my demeanor of mystery at all times.”

Geralt leaned close so that his lips were right up against Jaskier’s ear and whispered, “ _ I’d like to see behind your mystery. _ ” Jaskier shrieked and shoved him. Geralt laughed and flopped sideways onto the rug, his legs still on the couch. 

“Geralt Riviiowski, that was the worst pick-up line I have ever heard, you horrible, horrible man!” Jaskier yelled. 

“Shhh, Jask, the kids don’t need to know what we’re doing.” Geralt said, prodding at his boyfriend with his foot. Jaskier grabbed hold of Geralt’s ankle and began to ruthlessly stroke the bottom of his foot. Geralt retracted it with a powerful jerk and maneuvered his legs to drag Jaskier down off of the couch and into his reach. His boyfriend was absurdly ticklish, and he squealed the moment Geralt’s fingers touched his sides.

“What the fu–what are you  _ doing _ ?” Ciri asked, marching into the living room and folding her arms. Dara hovered behind her, looking concerned. 

“Nothing.” Geralt said.

“Just chilling.” Jaskier added, his voice muffled by Geralt’s chest. Ciri shook her head in a way that would have fit perfectly into the mannerisms of a disappointed grandmother and went to stuff her folder into her backpack, which leaned against the wall next to the shoe mat. 

“Your dads are fun.” Geralt heard Dara whispering to her.

“Super weird, you mean.” Ciri laughed, but he could tell she was pleased by Dara’s assessment. Jaskier rolled off of Geralt, stood laboriously, picked his guitar up, and wandered over to the corner where his stand waited. 

“Are you kids going to play on the Wii?” Geralt asked, pushing himself up into a standing position with one leg and running his fingers through his hair. “Jaskier and I can clear out of your way.”

“Yes we are.” Ciri said. “You can stay if you want. I don’t care. What do you think, Dara?” 

“I don’t mind either way.” Dara said, shrugging. Geralt went to get his book from the bedroom and settled into the armchair. Roach appeared from wherever she had been hiding and hopped up into his lap, purring and rubbing her face all over the book. Ciri began walking Dara through the basics of playing Mario Kart, and Jaskier settled himself down on the floor next to Geralt’s legs. 

The kids were deeply engrossed in a very competitive race when a knock on the door came. Geralt was expecting one of the Ellsworth parents, but the person who actually appeared when Jaskier opened the door was Yen. 

“HA! Take that, Donkey Kong, you coward!” Ciri cheered, pumping her fist and causing her car to take a sharp turn into grass. “Aw, co–darn.” 

“I see I’ve walked into an intense competition.” Yennefer observed, leaning her knee-high boots against the wall and padding over to lean on the back of Geralt’s chair. She was wearing a new dress; it reached down to just above her knees, was mostly of faux black velvet, and featured mesh windows just above her boobs and short leather sleeves. Geralt quietly hoped that whoever came to pick up Dara would come after Yen had left. “Who’s the new kid? Have you and Jaskier adopted another wayward stray?”

“No. That’s Ciri’s– _ Fiona’s _ friend Dara.” Geralt said absently, staying focused on his book. He was almost at a page break. 

“He thinks we’re cool, so I think he can stay.” Jaskier said, perching on the arm of the chair and leaning his arm on Geralt’s shoulder. “It’s good to have validation from middle schoolers sometimes.”

“I wish the kung fu kids listened to you.” Geralt said, shaking his head. “All they do is run around and scream.” 

“I don’t know if a child who thinks you two are cool is the best influence.” Yen teased. Dara’s cartoon car limped over the finish line, and the final animation played with cheerful music. 

“Hi, Yen.” Ciri said. “This is Dara, my friend from school. Dara, this is Yen. She’s kind of my mom but she’s not married to Jaskier of Geralt, and she lives downstairs.”

“Hi.” Dara stared at Yen’s dress and dark lipstick and dramatic eye makeup with wide eyes. 

“She runs an occult shop and she used to control politicians.” Ciri told him. 

“Not exactly...never mind.” Yen sighed. “It’s nice to meet you, Dara. I’ve heard so much about you.” She had also been privy to the lengthy monologues about Dara and what Ciri and her friend got up to at school. “I’m glad Fiona is making friends her own age at last.” 

“It’s not like I had a chance to before.” Ciri said, wrinkling her nose. “There aren’t a lot of kids to hang out with at...my foster home.” She caught herself quickly and shot a surreptitious glance at Dara, who was watching Yen’s large moon earrings with a fascination akin to the expression Roach reserved for laser pointers and the ribbons on the end of Geralt’s broadsword. 

“A fair point, indeed.” Jaskier said. “That’s one for Miss Riviiowski, zero for Ms. de Vengerberg.” Yen smacked him on the head. 

“Do you want to try Rainbow Road?” Ciri asked Dara, returning to the more important task at hand. “It’s the hardest course.” 

“Ok, why not?” Dara said, taking one last look at Yen’s earrings. 

“She’s going to destroy him.” Geralt predicted in a low murmur. “He was doing so well on the other courses.” 

“Ciri–” Geralt smacked him on the hip. “–destroys everyone at all video games ever.” Jaskier sighed. “She murdered me at Just Dance, and that’s my...that’s what I’m good at.” 

“I beat you at Just Dance all the time.” Geralt pointed out.

“You’re special.” Jaskier said. “You know how to move your body in surprising ways. And anyways, how do you know I don’t let you win?”

“Let’s keep the terrible innuendo to a minimum.” Yen chastised. “The children…”

“...are engaged in a terrible test of wills and cannot hear us.” Jaskier finished. “I have not said a single dirty thing this entire time. I am a pure and innocent man who is being cruelly attacked.” 

“You poor thing.” Geralt said, patting Jaskier on the thigh. Ciri completed her final lap without falling off of the road and cackled in glee. 

“Let’s try that again.” Dara said, a gleam of competition in his eyes. “This time I’ll do better.” 

“You’re on.” Ciri grinned.

“Maybe we should handicap her.” Yen mused. “She’s too powerful.” 

“Dara needs to learn by experiencing the pain of losing hundreds of times at Rainbow Road.” Jaskier said. “Only true Mario Kart masters have suffered in the glowing flames of the person who introduced them to the game’s kart.” 

“You should put that into a song.” Yen said. “It sounds like poetry.”

“Maybe I will write a song about playing Mario Kart.” Jaskier said. “You say that as if I won’t, Yen, but you underestimate my songwriting powers. I  _ will _ write about Mario Kart, and it will be beautiful and poetic and my audiences will be brought to tears.”

“As long as you don’t play it at the faire.” Geralt said. “People would riot if their beloved bard dropped his medieval persona.” 

“Marius Karte.” Jaskier said thoughtfully. “You race in wagons around the potato fields. I can make that into an event.” 

“The real question is, should you?” Yen asked, and Jaskier stuck his tongue out at her.

“Are you coming to the faire with us this year, Yen?” Geralt asked. “It’ll be Ci–Fiona’s first time, and I’m sure she’d love for you to be there.” 

“Of course.” Yen said. “Last year was a terrible fluke. I’m selling, but I can get someone to cover for me so I can walk around with you when you’re there.” 

“Our beloved witch will escort us about the faire and show us the most important sights there are to see.” Jaskier said, putting on a lilting accent. “O faire sorceress, what dost thou recommend we partake of?” 

“O rascally bard, I do so love to watch the knights fight for the honor of the beautiful princess of the castle.” Yen said, copying his accent. “But I love most of all to see the folk prance about in their finest clothes, eating the fine and delicious sandwiches provided by the most honorable vendors.”

“Fiona is going to love the tournament.” Geralt predicted. “Eventually we might be able to train her into a little knight of our own.”

“She has joined our ren faire family.” Jaskier said seriously. “She must take up a renaissance role or be cast out forever. It is a strict code.” 

“Hmm.” Geralt raised an eyebrow. There was a firm knock on the door, and Jaskier slid off of the chair to answer it.

“I hope I don’t give Dara’s parents a bad idea about who you are as people.” Yen said thoughtfully as Jaskier peered through the peephole and opened the door. Standing on the steps was a person who could be none other than Camden Ellsworth. He was wearing an impeccable suit and tie that made Jaskier’s skinny jeans and stolen boyfriend flannel look like the worst outfit in the world. 

“You must be Dara’s father.” Jaskier said, extending a hand. “Julien Alfred Pankratz. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Camden Ellsworth.” Dara’s dad said, accepting the handshake. Geralt put Roach on the back of the couch and went over to greet Mr. Ellsworth. Yen followed.

“Geralt Riviiowski.” he said. “Would you like something to drink? The kids are busy finishing up their game.”

“Ha HA, Fiona, take THAT!” Dara cheered, almost on cue.

“I’m good, thank you.” Mr. Ellsworth smiled awkwardly and stepped just inside the door.

“I’m Yennefer de Vengerberg.” Yen said, squeezing between Geralt and Jaskier to shake Mr. Ellsworth’s hand. “I’m a close family friend.”

“Lovely.” Mr. Ellsworth stared at Yen’s outfit with an alarmed expression on his face. 

“Now, I must be going.” Yen said. “I just wanted to pop by and say hello. I’ll see you two tonight for waffles.”

“Bye, Yennefer.” Jaskier said. Yen smiled at Mr. Ellsworth, picked up her boots, and slipped away into the hallway. 

“Ah, Mario Kart.” Mr. Ellsworth observed, tucking his hands into his pockets and regarding their apartment with what seemed to Geralt to be judgement. He wished he were wearing something closer to a suit and tie, just so he didn’t look so immature next to this businessman. “My wife says you went to Oxenfurt as well, Mr. Pankratz?”

“Please, call me Julien.” Jaskier said. “I graduated in the early 2000s, though I don’t know if we would have crossed paths. I was a music and English double major with a focus on poetry and a handful of minors. History and medieval studies.”

“Oh, we definitely wouldn’t have.” Mr. Ellsworth laughed. “I graduated in the late 90s, and I was political science with a management minor.”

“Hmm.” Geralt, who hadn’t been to university and wasn’t going to flash his trade school certifications in front of the likes of Mr. Ellsworth, said. “What do you do again, Mr. Ellsworth?”

“I’m a tax lawyer.” Mr. Ellsworth said proudly. “My wife is a defense lawyer. We hope Dara will continue the family tradition, but he’s more interested in reading and mythology than he is in law.” He laughed jovially. “What did you end up doing with that degree, Julien?” 

“Oh, I’m a...I write songs.” Jaskier stuttered, toeing the carpet. He was wearing colorfully and very mismatched cat socks. 

“Interesting.” Mr. Ellsworth nodded thoughtfully. “That explains the guitars, haha.” 

“Oh, that’s a lute.” Jaksier mumbled, but Mr. Ellsworth didn’t hear him.

“What do you do, Gerald, isn’t it?” he said, turning to Geralt.

“Freelance contractor.” Geralt said stiffly.

“Huh.” Mr. Ellsworth nodded as if he knew exactly what a freelance contractor was. “Very interesting.”

“Dad, look, I finally got second place!” Dara said cheerfully, pointing to the screen.

“Very good, son.” Mr. Ellsworth said, smiling. “Are you ready to go home now? Mom’s making your favorite.” 

“Aw yeah, spaghetti!” Dara said happily. He put the controller on the coffee table and went to get his shoes. Ciri followed him and went to lurk behind Jaskier, watching Mr. Ellsworth with suspicion.

“You must be Fiona.” Mr. Ellsworth said, offering a hand. Ciri shook it. “Dara’s told us so much about you.” 

“Cool.” Ciri said. Dara slung his backpack onto his back and went to stand next to his dad.

“Thank you for having me over.” he said, smiling. 

“Anytime.” Jaskier said. “You’re always welcome.

“Thank you for hosting him.” Mr. Ellsworth said. “Next time at our place, what do you think, Dara?” 

“Ok.” Dara said. “Bye, Fiona. See you on Monday.”

“See you on Monday.” Ciri repeated, waving. The Ellsworths left the apartment. As soon as the door shut, Geralt let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. 

“I can’t believe he called my lute a guitar.” Jaskier muttered, shaking his head. “What’s the use of a posh job if you can’t even tell instruments apart?”

“I couldn’t tell you, Jask.” Geralt said. 


	11. I'd be standing there between you and him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt has an encounter in an alley. Jaskier and Geralt navigate parent's night. Ciri discusses her parents with a variety of people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: a very brief scene of canon-typical violence (mostly hand-to-hand) from "Someone slammed into his back" until “Fuck.” he said to the empty sidewalk." There is a little bit of gun violence involved, but not like last time!  
> Today's title is from "Two Minutes". This chapter was fun to write for two reasons: I like writing kung fu combat (it's fun to show off actual real things I do on a daily basis, although right now I'm doing it all on my lonesome), and I like writing middle schoolers! It's possible I'm going into education after college. Thank you for reading!!!

The weather the next week was beautiful. It was turning to fall early, and the air was crisp and just the right weather for flannels. Ciri didn’t grumble about going running, which she had done every morning in August. Jaskier had taken to stealing Geralt’s clothes, and it was not uncommon for Geralt to come home from work to find his boyfriend banging about in the kitchen in a flannel that was just a little too big for him. 

“If only I were shorter than you.” Jaskier grumbled one evening as he stirred a pot full of chili. “Then taking your clothes would be more fun. They’re just not big enough on me.” 

“Do you want your entire arm absorbed by the sleeves of my jackets?” Geralt asked, dumping chopped onions into the mixture. 

“That’s what the point of boyfriend clothes is.” Jaskier pointed out. “I can’t have my hands out of the sleeves. Look at this!” He flopped his arm and caused the haphazardly rolled sleeve to fall just down to just below his fingertips. 

“Jaskier’s right.” Ciri provided from the kitchen table, where she was working her way through a page of math problems. “You want your boyfriend’s clothes to be so big they go down to your knees. That’s what Fola says.”

“Well, if Fola and Jaskier both say it, then I suppose it has to be true.” Geralt said. Jaskier made a face at him and whacked at him with the sleeve of his flannel. 

“Stop making terrible snarky comments and spice this bitch up.” he said. Ciri snorted at his descriptor for the chili.

Geralt had a job that week that was turning out to be more difficult and time-consuming then he had initially thought. The client he was working for had incredibly specific needs for their kitchen, and at least once a day they would send him another requirement they had forgotten about in the previous note. He had changed the tile at least three times, and he was grateful he had decided years ago to charge more if the job included details that had not been specified in the initial description. At least he would get more out of it, and maybe they would be able to afford something really nice from the ren faire. He had had his eye on a custom broadsword from the blacksmith who usually set up shop next to Yen’s booth, and he knew Jaskier had been talking about getting a hammered dulcimer. Those thoughts kept him going as he laid down the new tile, which in his opinion looked so much worse than what had initially been there.

“Who gets purple tile, anyway?” he asked the counter. The other man on the job, who was busy pressing faux hardwood onto the raw stone of the dining room, shrugged.

By the time they had finished the flooring, it was late and had been dark outside for a few hours. Geralt had chosen to walk to work that day in order to take advantage of the gorgeous weather, but he had not thought it would take this long to put down tile. Standing on the porch of the townhouse, he regarded the pools of light stretching down the street and hoped that the various personages who wandered the streets would steer clear him. He was not in the mood to practice his self defense.

The house was not far away from the apartment, but it went through what people like the Ellsworths regarded as the bad part of the city. Geralt had lived here for so long that he no longer paid attention to the people who lurked on the street corners or the occasional rattlings that came from the boarded up street fronts. He was usually left alone, given his size and the imposing glares he tended to shoot people who passed him by on the street. The few times he had been mugged, back when he had first moved to the city, he had left the perpetrators bruised and concussed. Events like that tended to spread through the neighborhood, and soon the hooligans left him alone. Despite all that, it was comforting to have his weighty toolbox in his hand. If his kung fu failed him, he could always hit someone with a hammer and end their hopes of taking his money. 

Geralt decided to take the alley cut through that was four blocks away from the apartment. It shaved off two blocks and meant he wouldn’t have to go past the cannabis dispensary. The people who smoked outside of the store knew not to harass him, but the smell of their blunts hurt his nose and gave him an intense headache, even if he passed it on the other side of the street. Such was the struggle of being a city-dwelling autistic person. The alley was dark, but it was not like there was anything Geralt could run into. He was comfortable walking around in the dark, and often scared Jaskier by keeping the lights off when he went into the kitchen to get water. His boots echoed off of the walls of the buildings that surrounded the alley, and for a moment he thought he was alone. A quiet scattering of pebbles changed his mind, and he paused, listening intently. It was likely nothing. People walked these alleys all the–

Someone slammed into his back and began to force his arm into a lock. Geralt reacted instinctively and twisted his hand around, grabbing firmly onto their wrist and pulling them into his side kick. There was a horrible crunching and a groan, and Geralt’s attacker stumbled backwards, clutching at their ribs. Three more people appeared from the shadows, their leader brandishing a pistol.

“Now, now, we don’t want to fight.” the leader said. “We just want some information.” Geralt recognized her as the woman who had shot Jaskier and ran at her. She yelled and fired a shot, but it went wide and only grazed Geralt’s arm. He swept her onto the ground, and her head cracked against the wall. One of the other men threw a punch at Geralt that caught him by surprise, and he cursed as it connected with his cheek. His attacker received a powerful elbow to the nose, and the other man was rewarded for his careful sneaking by a backfist to the groin. Both men stumbled away from Geralt. The man he had kicked in the ribs stumbled over and tried to strike with a pocketknife, but Geralt landed a spinning back kick directly in the center of his chest. The man who had punched him came staggering towards Geralt, blood pouring from his nose, and received a palm strike to the temple. The man with the injured groin would not be trying anything for a while, so Geralt left him clutching at his balls and hurried from the alley. His arm was bleeding. He hadn’t noticed that in the heat of the fight. 

“Fuck.” he said to the empty sidewalk. It was late enough for Ciri to be in bed, so she wouldn’t have to know that Nilfgaard was back. Jaskier would worry, though. Jaskier would have to know eventually. There was no avoiding this. Even if Geralt did go to Yen’s apartment to get patched up, as he had briefly considered, Yen would tell Jaskier eventually. She didn’t like it when Geralt tried to keep secrets from people, not after the disaster that had been their last month of dating. He hurried down the last two blocks, attracting curious glances from the people sitting on their porches and smoking outside of the convenience store. Thankfully, he didn’t meet anyone in the elevator or the hallway. They would certainly get a note from the landlord if any of the crotchety old ladies who populated the building got a whiff of him fighting on the street. 

Jaskier was curled up in the corner of the couch and watching a baking show on Netflix through half-closed eyes. He looked up when Geralt came in, clearly preparing to say something vague and sleepy, but his expression shifted abruptly when he saw the blood staining Geralt’s jacket.

“Geralt, what  _ happened _ ?” he hissed, pausing the episode and hurrying over. “You’re  _ bleeding _ .” 

“It’s fine. It doesn’t...ow, fuck.” Geralt had taken his jacket off and brushed the wound, sending a flare of pain through his arm. “I guess it was just waiting to hurt.” His arm throbbed in agreement. The bullet had left a diagonal furrow across his bicep, and the blood was soaking through his t-shirt sleeve. 

“Let’s clean that up.” Jaskier said, taking Geralt’s hand and marching him into the bathroom. Geralt sat on the toilet and watched his boyfriend rummaging through the cupboard, dropping bottles and boxes everywhere. “Dammit.” The roll of gauze fell from Jaskier’s fingers and rolled across the floor. Geralt picked it up and went to help him assemble supplies. “You go sit; you’re wounded.” he protested as Geralt took the bottle of iodine from his trembling hands and set it down on the counter. 

“And you’re panicking.” Geralt said gently.

“I am  _ not _ .” Geralt squeezed Jaskier’s shoulder and kissed him on the forehead. Jaskier sighed and pressed his face into Geralt’s good shoulder. “You should take your shirt off so I can patch you up easier.” he muttered. Geralt complied, and was soon stoically pretending that the antiseptic Jaskier was tenderly applying to his arm didn’t sting something awful. 

“There.” Jaskier stuck a bit of medical tape to the neat dressing he had just applied and kissed Geralt on the side of the head. “All better. Now, what the  _ fuck _ happened? You can’t come home with blood all over your arm and your hair a mess like you’ve been fighting and then tell me it was nothing.”

“It was Nilfgaard.” Geralt said quietly, glancing towards the hallway and hoping that Ciri wasn’t awake listening to them. “I took the shortcut home and they were waiting. They won’t be coming after me for a while now.” Jaskier leaned against the sink and ran his fingers through his hair, letting out a long breath.

“Well, fuck.” he said. “Fuck. Have they been lying in wait since May?” 

“I don’t know.” Geralt said, twisting his shirt in his hands. “I don’t know why they waited.” 

“We should ask Yennefer what she thinks we should do.” Jaskier said. “I don’t know if we should call the police. They’re not going to trust us, especially since we live in this area. Nilfgaard agents attacking a random man in a back alley around here doesn’t sound plausible.” 

“I don’t trust them to not use Ciri for their own purposes.” Geralt added. Jaskier nodded and turned to put things back in the medicine cabinet. Geralt stood and helped him. 

“What a fucking pickle we’ve got ourselves in.” Jaskier sighed, tucking the box of superhero Band-Aids he had impulse bought a few weeks previously back in their place. “How did this get thrust on us?” 

“The banquet…”

“Fuck that banquet.” Jaskier said abruptly. “I’m sorry I ever made you come with me. Ciri should have gone with some soldier of Cintra who could actually protect her. How the  _ fuck _ are we supposed to protect her from this?” His voice shook on the last word. Geralt went to him and wrapped his arms around his waist, tucking his head into the curve of Jaskier’s neck. Jaskier relaxed back into him, tugging Geralt’s arms closer around his body. They stood like that for a long time, breathing as one. 

“We’ll be ok.” Geralt said finally, not quite believing himself. “I’m sure we’ll be ok.” 

“Hmm.” Jaskier ran his fingers over Geralt’s callused knuckles. “Do you want to come finish the episode I’m on with me? I just started it.” 

“Of course. I’m going to go change my clothes first.” Geralt murmured, turning his head to kiss Jaskier just under his chin. 

“You’ve got to get sexy for Mary Berry.” Jaskier whispered in his ear, and Geralt immediately disconnected from his boyfriend.

“What the fuck, Jask.” he grumbled, picking his t-shirt up from the ground. Jaskier grinned at him.

“I love you too, Geralt.” he said. Geralt went to change his bloody shirt and dirty jeans out for pajama pants and a t-shirt for Jaskier’s band, then joined Jaskier on the couch. For a long hour, they forgot about the danger pressing in on them and instead replaced it with the trials and tribulations of baking bread.

\------

By the next morning, the side of Geralt’s face had developed a nasty purple bruise that was clearly the shape of someone’s fist. Jaskier wondered what kind of super villains had the speed to get around Geralt’s reflexes and expressed as much over the breakfast table. 

“He surprised me, Jask.” Geralt said, brushing his fingers over his cheek and wincing. “I don’t have eyes in the back of my head, you know. I was busy.” Jaskier rummaged through the freezer and emerged with an ice pack, which he wrapped in a dishcloth and shoved into his boyfriend’s hands.

“You should have told me someone punched you in the face, or we could have taken care of that last night.” he said, frowning. 

“It slipped my mind.” Geralt said. “I was bleeding, too, you know.” 

“You were what?” Ciri had emerged from the bathroom with her hair carefully braided and wrapped into a tight bun. “What happened to your face?” Geralt and Jaskeir looked at each other. In the midst of Jaskier’s panic, he had forgotten that they would have to think of a way to tell Ciri what had happened. 

“I got in a fight last night. It’s nothing to worry about.” Geralt said smoothly. Ciri squinted at him and folded her arms.

“Was it Nilfgaard?” she asked. “Don’t lie to me. I can handle it. I am almost thirteen, you know.” Jaskier suppressed a laugh at that. 

“It...it was Nilfgaard.” Geralt sighed, and Ciri’s face blanched. “I let them know that messing with us is no small thing, so I’m sure they won’t be trying to come after us again.” he added.

“You beat them up last time, and they still came back.” Ciri pointed out, hugging herself. “It didn’t work. They have a whole army behind them.” Geralt didn’t have an answer for that.

“They don’t know where we live exactly, so there’s that.” Jaskier pointed out. “I don’t think they want to attack us in the open, or in daylight. As long as you don’t go walking around the city at night, you should be safe.” Ciri shrugged and went to make toast, her steps heavy and slow.

“Parent’s night is tomorrow.” Geralt groaned abruptly. “How the hell are we supposed to make a good impression on Ciri’s teachers when I have a whole man’s fist imprinted on my face?” 

“You are a martial artist.” Jaskier pointed out. “Just say it was sparring gone wrong. Or, better yet, get Yennefer to cover it up.” 

“That would be really obvious.” Ciri said from her position by the toaster. “Yen’s skin is a lot darker than Geralt’s and the makeup would stand out.” 

“I suppose you’re right.” Jaskier said. “I’m sure they’ll accept that when someone is a strong and powerful black belt, they run into things like this.”

“Like fists.” Geralt frowned at him, and Jaskier shrugged.

“Do  _ you _ want to be the one to tell a bunch of middle school teachers you got mugged in an alley on the way home from work?” he asked. Ciri’s toast finished, and she came over to the table to begin the process of slathering it in butter and jam. She ate slowly, taking careful nibbles of the edges of the bread. 

“Ciri, you’ve got to hurry.” Geralt said gently after ten minutes had passed and left only one piece of toast finished. Ciri frowned at her bread.

“I’m not that hungry.” she said. 

“Finish half of the toast and then we can go. How does that sound?” Jaskier asked, pumping cheer into his voice. Ciri wrinkled her nose at him.

“Do I have to?” 

“Eating is important.” Jaskier declared. Ciri frowned and took delicate bites of her remaining piece of toast. Geralt muttered something about brushing his teeth and wandered away. “Are you getting anxious about the people who attacked Geralt?” Jaskier asked when Ciri put her bread down on the plate and frowned at it.

“No, I’m just not hungry!” Ciri snapped. Jaskier sighed. He could see his own reaction to people asking about his anxiety in her. He pushed his bangs to the side and drummed his fingers on the edge of the table.

“It’s ok to be anxious about things,” he said finally. “It’s even better to tell people that you’re anxious. I didn’t learn that until I had been an adult for a while, and I spent a long time stuck in a bad place because I wasn’t talking to people.” 

“Oh.” Ciri took a stubborn bite of toast and chewed. “I made it through two contries by myself. I shouldn’t be scared of some stupid people that Geralt fucking destroyed.”

“Language.” Jaskier said, smiling just a little. “You’re only twelve, Ciri, and it’s scary, what you’ve been through and what’s happening. It’s ok to be scared. If I were in your place I would be terrified.” 

“Grandma was never scared when she went into battle.” Ciri pointed out. “She wouldn’t have done all the things she did if she had been scared.”

“Did you ever ask her if she was scared?” Jaskier asked, and Ciri scowled at her toast before taking another bite. She had already passed the halfway point, but Jaskier wasn’t going to stop her now. “Geralt and I are here for you, and we’re going to keep you safe, no matter what.” he said. “Geralt won’t let them get anywhere near you. You didn’t see what he did to the people who…” He stopped before he could say  _ shot me _ and remind Ciri of how the Nilfgaardians had already hurt someone in her family. “Yennefer, too. She can be really scary when people piss her off. I know she would kill anyone who came near her beloved daughter without a second thought.” 

“I bet she’s killed someone.” Ciri said through a large mouthful of toast.

“Probably.” Geralt had returned. “You’d better get going now, Jask. The line gets longer the closer you get to the bell ringing.” Ciri shoved the rest of her toast into her mouth and chewed vigorously, then ran to brush her teeth. Jaskier put his shoes on and walked over to kiss Geralt on the head. 

“I’m helping our kid gain emotional intelligence.” he said. Geralt patted him on the ass, and Jaskier gave him a saucy look. 

“Yikes.” Ciri declared, emerging from the bathroom and shoving her feet into her sneakers. “You’re almost as bad as Grandma and Eist.”

“Love makes you a little crazy.” Jaskier said, and Ciri rolled her eyes. When they got into the car, Ciri turned the radio up to the highest comfortable setting. The station was doing an ad-free throwback morning, and Jaskier sang along to the songs at the top of his voice. 

“Grandma always complained about people who drove around blasting music out of their cars.” Ciri observed when the station moved to ads and had to be turned down. “She said people like that were the bane of her existence.”

“Interesting.” Jaskier didn’t know how to respond to that in a way that wouldn’t be deeply upsetting. 

“I think it’s fun, though.” Ciri added. “Grandma just liked to complain about people.”

“When you’re queen, sometimes you just need to complain.” Jaskier said. Ciri made a face at him, and he laughed. “Don’t look at me like that, Ciri.”

“What do you know about being queen?” Ciri asked, suddenly serious. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to be like my grandma.”

“That’s assuming you will be queen.” Jaskier said.

“When I’m an adult, I’m going to take the throne back from Nilfgaard.” Ciri said. “There are a lot of Cintran refugees who will recognize me as the rightful ruler, and together we’ll reclaim our country.” She sounded like a character out of the fantasy novels Geralt loved to read.

“A lot can change in six years.” Jaskier observed. “Nilfgaard might not have control of Cintra anymore. There are plenty of countries around it that want the glory of taking Cintra back and freeing it. International politics change quickly. You should talk to Yennefer about this. She knows how all of that works much better than I do. I’m just a simple musician.” 

“Yen probably does know.” Ciri kicked the underside of the dashboard and stared out of the window. 

“Why do you want to be queen?” Jaskier wondered. “You don’t have to, you know. You can stay here, with Geralt and I. Go to university, get a degree in astrophysics, do something else with your life. Deciding to rule is a big thing for a twelve-year-old.”

“I’m almost thirteen.” Ciri pointed out. “And I don’t  _ want _ to be queen. I was born to it. It’s my destiny. I’m going to be queen and I’m going to save my people from the evil Nilfgaardians and I’m going to make Cintra better. That’s why I need to be queen. So I can protect people.”

“Ciri, I’ve never heard a better reason for wanting power.” Jaskier said. “I think when the time is right, you’ll be a good queen.”

“I hope so.” Ciri said. “That’s a long way off now.”

“You’ve got to get through school first.” Jaskier agreed. “Maybe university, too. You’ve got to get that math degree to destroy Nilfgaard, after all.” Ciri laughed and turned the music up again.

Parents’ night was something that Jaskier remembered vaguely as having been a thing in Blaviken, but he had never really understood what happened at it. His mom had always come home with some sort of gossip about a teacher or a parent, but that had never given him an idea of what she had actually done to get that gossip. The email they had gotten had specified that it was a casual event, but Geralt and Jaskier had both decided to go with button-up shirts.

“You look like an old man going on a cruise, and you look like a vampire.” Ciri observed from the couch when they emerged from the bedroom. Jaskier looked down at the tasteful pink rose pattern that covered his shirt and wondered what cruises Ciri had been on. She was right about Geralt, though. His black shirt was buttoned up all the way to his chin and made him seem much paler than usual.

“I can fix that.” Jaskier said, moving over to unbutton his boyfriend’s shirt. “There.”

“Now he looks like a vampire trying to be sexy.” Ciri said. 

“No one else will think that.” Geralt said, reaching up to tighten his hairband. 

“I think he looks handsome.” Jaskier declared.

“Of course you do. You’re legally required to think I look handsome at all times.” Geralt commented, completely deadpan. “Yen is going to come by as soon as she’s finished dinner, just to keep you company.” he added to Ciri.

“And to make sure you don’t burn the apartment down.” Jaskier added. “We can’t trust you alone.” Ciri made an evil face. “We should be back by nine. At least, that’s what the email said.”

“Have fun. Don’t scare anyone.” Ciri said, and returned to her reading. 

“That’s a vote of confidence.” Jaskier said wryly as they walked to the elevator. “I’m glad the bar is set at not scaring her teachers.” 

“As long as they don’t ask about my face.” Geralt said, grimacing. The bruise had not deemed it necessary to fade and was still vivid and distinctly fist-like. Jaskier gave it a gentle kiss. “Ow.”

“My mother was lying to me when she kissed my bruises to make them better.” Jaskier mused.

“Is she planning on visiting us anytime soon?” Geralt wondered as they stepped into the elevator. Jaskier’s mom had come to stay with them a few times over the years, and it was always an experience. Marilka Pankratz was a strong-willed person with diverse tastes, and she liked to take her son to obscure historical attractions and museums she had found in deep corners of travel websites. Jaskier would never forget when she had taken him and Geralt to the penis museum in Temeria. When he had called to tell her he and Geralt were in a relationship, she had declared that it was about time Jaskier stopped pining and accepted that Geralt really did want to bone him.

“I don’t know.” he said. “She wants to meet Ciri, I know that. Maybe she’ll visit for Christmas.” 

“That would be nice.” Geralt said. They climbed into the car, and Jaskier reached to turn the volume down as soon as Geralt turned the ignition on. They drove to school with the pop station quietly throbbing from the speakers. The parking lot was full, so they parked near the entrance and walked the long distance to the school. Halfway across the asphalt, Jaskier slipped his hand into Geralt’s and squeezed. 

Mr. Lewis’s room was full of pairs of parents pouring over their kids’ schedules and commiserating about how they were going to get places. The Ellsworths were not there yet, so Jaskier chose a pair of desks in between two other sets of parents. He did not really have the brain energy to deal with Dara’s baffling parents. Geralt wandered to the front to pick up the packet of information they would need for the day, and Jaskier wondered how to properly start a conversation with a pair of people who were clearly involved in talking to each other. He didn’t need to wonder for long.

“Oh, I love that shirt!” one of the pair of women sitting on his right leaned across her wife’s desk to beam at him. Her dark hair was shaved close to her head, and she was wearing a lavender dress shirt that contrasted wonderfully with her dark skin. “Where did you get it?” 

“My mom bought it for me as a Christmas present ages ago.” Jaskier admitted. “I think she got it from a boutique in Oxenfurt.” 

“I have one a little like it.” the woman said. “It looks good.” Geralt returned and settled down into the seat next to Jaskier. “I’m Maria, by the way.” the woman added. “Maria Barring. And this is my wife, Aglaïs.” Aglaïs had long hair woven into dreadlocks and was wearing a short dark green dress with patterns of leaves on it. 

“Jaskier Pankratz.” Jaskier said, accepting Maria’s handshake. “This is my partner, Geralt Riviiowski.” Geralt smiled and returned to reading the papers in the file. 

“Lovely to meet you both.” Maria said. “Who’s your kid?”

“Fiona.” Jaskier said, and Maria and Aglaïs nodded knowingly.

“Glacella’s told us all about her.” Aglaïs confided. “She’s a character, your daughter. Very outspoken. And she knows quite a lot about history, apparently.”

“Glacella is usually the one who destroys at kickball, but her crown was taken by your Fiona.” Maria said in a way that made her seem less annoyed that their daughter had overthrown her daughter’s position as kickball champion and more impressed by “Fiona’s” impressive athletic ability. “Glacella told us she hopes Fiona goes out for basketball in the spring.”

“Well, she’s already doing kung fu, so we’ll have to have that conversation when it comes around.” Jaskier said proudly.

“Oh, kung fu! Very cool.” Maria said. “It must be a family business, I see.” she added, nodding at Geralt and his bruised face.

“Oh, yes, I can’t keep my family contained.” Jaskier said. “Someone let himself get punched in the face during sparring.”

“Accident.” Geralt grunted, turning a page in the packet. Jaskier patted Geralt’s arm and smiled at the women as if to say, look at my silly boyfriend and how he walks into people’s fists.

“Some jobs just mean you get strange injuries.” Maria said. “I’m a park ranger and the number of times I’ve had to explain to ER nurses that an owl really did bite me is uncountable.” 

“It’s true.” Aglaïs said. 

“Aglaïs works for the forestry department so she doesn’t get as many fun stories as I do.” Maria said. “Trees don’t bite you when you mark them to be cut down.”

“All my stories involve me going to formal events tinged slightly orange.” Aglaïs commented. “It’s a good thing I wasn’t spraying this week or I would have been the shock of the parents’ night.” Maria chucked. 

“Are you also a kung fu person?” she asked Jaskier.

“I’m flattered you think I could be, but no, alas I am not.” Jaskier said. “I’m a singer-songwriter and I work in a coffee shop on the side.”

“Oh, interesting.” Maria said. “What kind of music do you write?”

“Mostly acoustic.” Jaskier said. “I suppose you could describe me as indie? I play at the ren faire and a lot of my songs end up getting geared towards that audience.”

“I think the streaming services have you as indie-folk.” Geralt said, tucking the last paper into the folder and closing it. “We have a schedule of classes to go to, by the way.” He passed it over to Jaskier to look at. 

“What math is Fiona in?” Aglaïs asked, leaning over to look at the schedule. “Glacella is always complaining about her algebra teacher and how he drones on and on about math.”

“Geometry.” Jaskier said, showing her the paper. “Fiona says she loves her teacher, so I don’t think it’s the same one.”

“Some of these math teachers are just so…” Maria searched desperately for a word “...bad at teaching.” Jaskier nodded, and was about to add a pithy remark about the state of the education system when Mr. Lewis clapped his hands to gain their attention.

“Time to learn about what the fuck goes on in middle school.” Jaskier muttered, gaining a snort from Geralt and a glare from the woman sitting in front of him. 

\------

“Fiona, may I speak to you?” Ciri paused in her frantic packing of her backpack to look up at Dr. Terzieff-Godefroy, who was looming benignly over her lab bench. She liked her quirky science teacher and found his fluffy gray sideburns that looked like they had come out of a period piece endearing, but sometimes the way he hovered was unnerving. 

“Sure.” she said, glancing at the clock. She had five minutes until lunch started, but she could be late. Her friends would wait for her. They knew she sometimes liked to talk to Dr. Terzieff-Godefroy about lessons or whatever else she thought would be fun to interrogate the older man about. He had taught life sciences at Upper Sodden University for an unknown but reportedly long period of time, then had decided to enter the public school system and teach high school life science. He had been teaching middle school physical science for five years. 

“I met your dads last night.” Dr. Terzieff-Godefroy said, walking around the lab bench and sitting in the chair next to her. Ciri tucked her final notebook into her bag and zipped it up, turning her attention back to her teacher. “They’re very interesting men. Exactly what I expected your parents to be like.” Ciri laughed, not really sure if that was supposed to be a good thing. “I am a little concerned, though...did your father, Geralt, get in a fight recently? He had a nasty bruise on his face, and I didn’t think it would be proper to ask him about it, but I was thinking about it afterwards and I became worried. Do you live in an unsafe neighborhood?” 

“Oh, no.” Ciri said, laughing again and hating herself for lying to her favorite teacher. It had to be done, though. You needed to forget about morals to survive. “He’s a kung fu instructor, and sometimes things happen when you’re sparring.” 

“That’s right, I think you told me that.” Dr. Terzieff-Godefroy said, nodding and pushing his spectacles–Ciri found she was physically incapable of using such a mundane word as glasses to describe them–up his nose. “Interesting lives your parents lead. Your other dad, Julien Alfred Pankratz,” His diction was exactly the same as Jaskier’s was whenever he gave his full name to people, and Ciri had to stop herself from repeating it under her breath, “he’s a songwriter?” 

“Yeah, he plays in coffee shops and bars.” Ciri said. “I go with him sometimes. To the coffee shops. Never the bars.” 

“I should hope not.” Dr. Terzieff-Godefroy said. The bell rang, and he glanced up at the clock. “I’ve kept you into lunchtime! Goodness me, I’ll let you go now.”

“Ok. Thanks, Dr. T-G.” Ciri said. 

“Always a pleasure, Fiona G-R.” Dr. Terzieff-Godefroy said, smiling. Ciri picked up her backpack and hurried out of the classroom and to her locker. Dara, Glacella, and Fola were waiting for her.

“Regis kept you for a long time.” Fola observed. Most of the students under Dr. Terzieff-Godefroy called him by his first name behind his back. It was easier than his full name. “What were you talking about, the conjunction of the spheres?” 

“He just wanted to ask me about my dads.” Ciri said. “Nothing sciency at all.” 

“Mom said your dads were really interesting.” Glacella reported. “And Mama has been searching online for the shirt one of them was wearing.”

“I hope it wasn’t what Geralt was wearing, ‘cause that was just a plain black shirt.” Ciri said, exchanging her backpack for her lunch box and slamming her locker closed. “People say gay people have a better sense of fashion than straight people, but that’s not true at all. He dresses like the lovechild of a biker and a vampire.”

“Mom has no sense of style either.” Glacella agreed. “Mama teases her and calls her a disaster hippie lesbian all the time, but she’s right.”

“My dad sometimes wears boxers with raunchy jokes on them, but I think that’s a straight guy problem.” Fola added.

“See, it’s cool when queer people do it.” Glacella declared. “Straight dudes shouldn’t be allowed to wear flannel anymore. They don’t know what to do with it. The butches and the twinks need to reclaim the plaid.” She flopped the sleeves of her own red flannel shirt, which she was wearing tied around her waist as a sort of fashion statement. “Flannel, jean shorts, Doc Martens...what else do we get to steal from the heteros, Fiona?” 

“Hawaiian shirts.” Ciri said, thinking through the outfits her dads wore.

“Hawaiian shirts, yes!” Glacella exclaimed. “Good one, Fiona.” They reached the cafeteria and split in two, Dara and Fola heading for the lunch line and Ciri and Glacella marching for their usual table. They shared it with a rambunctious gang known colloquially as the Rats, but they did not pay any attention to their rowdy and foul-mouthed tablemates. 

“I should get my moms to invite your family to our Oktoberfest barbeque.” Glacella said. “I think it would be fun to see them interacting. And my moms have exclusively queer friends, so you and your dads would fit right in.”

“I feel bad for Fola, having to be the only gay person in a family of straight people.” Ciri said thoughtfully, munching a carrot stick. “We really got lucky, didn’t we?” She didn’t mention that she had lived most of her life with her decidedly heterosexual grandparents who, while accepting of Ciri’s budgeoning interest in girls as well as guys, had not really gotten it. It had been a revelation for her to walk into Geralt and Jaskier’s apartment and realize that she had lost one family only to gain another entirely comprised of proudly bisexual people. “When is the barbeque?” 

“I’m not sure.” Glacella said. “It’s not over any of the faire weekends, because a few of my moms’ friends religiously go, so you can probably make it.” 

“I think that would be really fun.” Ciri said. Fola and Dara returned to the table, and they were drawn into a heated debate about Gwent. Internally, Ciri smiled. She was glad she had found these people even in the midst of all the chaos going on in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure: my only experience of Milva and Regis is the third book of the series (I haven't gotten a chance to read the next few because of libraries being closed and me not wanting to spend money while I still don't have a job (ope)) so these characterizations are me freewheeling it! Also this is a bi Ciri house and i will not be taking questions.


	12. More to hurl at the door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit goes down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: kidnapping and canon-typical violence throughout the chapter  
> Y'all, this is the penultimate chapter! What happened?! The chapter title comes from "The Horror and the Wild". I don't have much to say in these notes; gotta save it for the long-ass final note. Just my usual self-advertisment stuff! I'm on tumblr @tamisnotagirl and @accessiblewitcher, so come say hi! Thank you thank you so much for reading!!!!! I'll be posting the epilogue tomorrow as a special treat :)

They had tried to work their schedules to avoid working late, but Jaskier did not always have complete control over when he was asked to work, and it was such that no one else was available to work the closing shift that Saturday night. He was usually done by eight, and it wasn’t that dark outside, so he supposed that it would be fine. It was also Saturday, and the clubs were usually bursting with partiers who would probably notice someone being mugged in an alley. Even so, at dinner on Friday Yennefer pressed a hefty pocket knife into his hands and informed him that it was to help him, “feel safe.”

“I don’t know what Yennefer thinks I’m going to do with a knife.” Jaskier had mused in bed that night. “Me and my twink arms.” 

“You can do a lot with a knife, twink arms or not.” Geralt murmured into his shoulder. Even with that ringing endorsement, Jaskier had shoved the knife into the bottom of his backpack and forgotten about it.

The evening shift was usually slow, although they frequently got students from USU chugging espresso and cram studying right up until closing. There were a handful of students in the corner that night, hunched over a massive textbook and quizzing each other on what sounded like the parts of plants between sips of their extremely caffeinated drinks. Jaskier was running the register that night and had wished he had the ability to change customer’s ill-advised orders. The flow of customers slowed to a trickle, until the only people in the shop were the studying students. Jaskier went to the back room to get a broom and began sweeping while his coworker for the night took both the register and the machine. A man in a business suit came in and ordered a smoothie, then stood by the counter, alternating between watching Jaskier cleaning and staring impatiently down at his watch. The students finished up their studying and trooped out into the night. The businessman received his drink and marched out of the shop, still staring at his watch. The register was locked up, the door bolted shut, and Jaskier put his jacket on and set off for home. 

He remembered the knife halfway to the apartment and paused to dig it out of his backpack and tuck it into the pocket of his jacket. It was darker out than he had expected. A few of the streetlights were out. That was something the municipal council should deal with, but Jaskier had accepted long ago that things like that didn’t get fixed in his neighborhood. You just had to deal with darkness after eight. The clubs were popping, and he was grateful for the flashing neon lights that reminded him that there were other people on the street. The gay nightclub on the end of the second-to-last block before their street was full, and Jaskier could almost hear the pounding of feet on the dance floor over the EDM blasting through the half-open door. 

Their street was silent. It was mainly residential, and the people who lived in Jaskier and Geralt’s building tended to file complaints when there was anything louder than a cat yowling on the street. There had been a block party once, in the first year Jaskier had lived there, and the older residents had thrown a fit. The streetlights here were working, although the one next to the alley between the apartment building and the block of townhouses was flickering. Jaskier frowned at it.

“What a coincidence. We meet again.” Jaskier’s hand went to the knife in his pocket, but the man lurking behind the woman in the alley was faster and grabbed his arm. Every self defense move Geralt had ever demonstrated to him went out of his mind, and he tried to pull away, opening his mouth to yell. The man twisted his arm behind him and put a strong hand over his mouth. Jaskier bit at it and received a painful wrench for his troubles. “Now, we don’t have to worry about foolish boyfriends today, do we?” the woman asked. “No, I thought not. Let’s go, Cahir.” Jaskier tried in vain to kick the man’s shin, but the mysterious Cahir hit him hard in the side of the head and his vision faded to black.

\------

Jaskier was late. Geralt knew that sometimes when his boyfriend closed, he took longer to get home, but he still kept staring at the clock and calculating exactly how many minutes past the usual time Jaskier came home it was. Ciri kept glancing up from the book she was reading for English and staring at him and his anxious time-checks. Four minutes...five minutes...seven minutes...ten minutes…

“How late is Jaskier working today?” Ciri asked, closing her book and going to put it away in her backpack. “Shouldn’t he be home by now?” 

“Usually he is.” Geralt checked the clock again. Eleven minutes had passed. “I’m going to call him.” He pulled out his cell phone and was just about to open it to his contacts when it began ringing. It was Jaskier. Geralt answered it at once. “Jask, where the  _ fuck  _ are–”

“Geralt, it’s them. They’ve got me. I think I’m in one of the ware–” There was a thumping noise, and something that sounded distinctly like a phone falling onto hard concrete. Geralt listened in tense fear to the sounds of a fist fight, then lost connection. He sat listening to the dial tone, clutching the phone. 

“Ciri, I have to go.” he said finally, hanging up and shoving his phone into his pocket. “Stay here. Do  _ not _ leave the apartment, whatever you–”

“Hold on.” Ciri folded her arms. “I’m coming with you. You’re going after Jaskier, aren’t you? I have a right to help you. They took one of my families; I need revenge.” 

“Ciri,  _ no _ . You’re _ twelve _ .” Geralt said. “You are staying here, and you are keeping the door locked.”

“I’ll just come after you and then they’ll get me and it will all be for nothing.” Ciri pointed out. “It’s either take me with you or let me get kidnapped anyway.” Geralt sighed.

“I’ll tell Yen to watch you.” he said.

“I’ll sneak out. Or, better yet, Yen and I will come after you. Don’t tell me Yen’s not going to want to come, too. Jaskier’s her friend, too.” Geralt couldn’t argue with that.

“Fine.” he said. “Fine! Bring your staff, just in case. Or...I’ll bring the nunchucks, never mind. I don’t want you hurting yourself with them.” When he had first started learning his nunchuck forms, Vesemir had lectured Geralt and his fellow students about how easy it was to kill someone with a nunchuck, and every time he had practiced with them since he had thought about that talk. Ciri nodded and ran into her bedroom. Geralt went to the corner where he kept his gear and took his nunchucks out of his bag. He regarded his sword bag thoughtfully, wondering if bringing his short stick would be beneficial at all, then decided that the nunchucks and his body would be enough. Ciri reappeared, wearing running shorts over colorful leggings and carrying her staff. It was a little too big for her, but she was growing fast and would need a full-size staff soon anyway. 

“Does Yen have weapons?” she wondered, watching as Geralt put his running shoes on and shoved his nunchucks into the pocket of his jacket. 

“She has knives and pepper spray.” Geralt said. “I trust her to be able to handle herself.”

“And you don’t trust me?”

“Ciri, you’re a child.” Geralt sighed, pushing the door open and leading the way down the hall and to the stairs. “You’re a very capable child, but you’re still a child.”

“I can take care of myself.” Ciri grumbled. “I didn’t cross all the countries in between here and Cintra by myself for nothing.” She had a point, but Geralt didn’t want to give support to Ciri’s belief that she could take down the Nilfgaardians. They reached Yen’s apartment, and Geralt knocked firmly on the door. As he knocked, he realized that Yen was probably at work. She wasn’t going to be at home. 

“Geralt?” Yen opened the door in her silk dressing gown, a concerned look on her face. “What is it? Why does Ciri have her staff?”

“They have Jaskier.” Geralt said. “We’re going after them, and we thought you should help us.” Yen’s eyes went wide, and she opened the door wider.

“Come in.” she said. “I’ll get dressed.” They stepped into the apartment and stood by the door while Yen ran into her bedroom. Ciri was holding her staff like it was going to protect her from whatever dangers lurked under Yen’s leather couch. 

“Do you know where Jaskier is?” Ciri asked in a small voice.

“He said he was in a warehouse.” Geralt said. “I think once we get to the warehouse district we can find it.” 

“How hard will it be to find people in a warehouse district?” Ciri wondered.

“We’ll see.” Geralt said. Yen returned in black leggings and a simple t-shirt with her leather jacket over her arm. She put it on and patted her pockets.

“I’m prepared.” she assured Geralt. “Pepper spray, three knives, and a taser keychain. Everything a woman needs in the city.” She pulled on a pair of combat boots and pulled her hair back into a bun. “Where are we going?”

“Warehouse district.” Geralt said. “We should take your car; they’ll recognize ours, I’m sure.”

“Mine is also black, so it’ll blend in with the night well.” Yen pointed out. Geralt hadn’t thought about that. They marched down the hall to the elevator. One of the older women from Geralt and Jaskier’s floor was in there with an empty grocery cart, and she stared at her companions with a concerned look in her eyes. Geralt refused to make eye contact, but Ciri gave her a small reassuring smile. They all got off at the parking garage together, and the woman hurried off into the opposite direction, staring at them over her shoulder.

“I hope she thinks we’re going to some kind of punk rock festival and not to commit a murder.” Yen said thoughtfully, glancing after her. Geralt shrugged. They climbed into Yen’s black hatchback, and Yen pulled out of the garage at a speed that was certainly not acceptable for a parking garage. Ciri clung to the back of Geralt’s chair, and the end of her staff rolled into his leg.

“Yen, slow down.” he said through gritted teeth. This made it three times he had been in a car while Yen was speeding. 

“Jaskier is probably getting tortured by Nilfgaard’s fucking awful intelligence agents, and you want me to slow down?” Yen asked without looking away from the windshield. They barely missed hitting the flag that marked the exit onto the street, and Geralt resisted the urge to stare back at the bewildered parking attendant. They shot down the street and took a hairpin turn. A pair of people in leather vests standing outside of the gay nightclub yelled something that was probably, “slow down, you maniacs!” after them. Yen slowed down once she reached the main road, which was busy with people going to the bars and restaurants. Ciri stared out the window at the people on the sidewalks and rubbed her staff. 

The warehouse district was on the edge of the city proper. It overlooked the Yaruga River, and there was a busy dock that often had a small shipping vessel being unloaded at it. The big dock where most ships that came up the river was further upstream, near the old fortress. Geralt and Jaskier had been to the old fortress a few times. It was a popular historical attraction, and there was usually a school group running through the tumbled-down walls and towers. The warehouses were not that. Yen parked the car on a side street and led the way down an empty block of abandoned lots to a cluster of four large gray cubes. Ciri took Geralt’s hand. 

“I’m scared.” she whispered. Geralt squeezed her hand. They stepped in between the first warehouses, and Yen paused, holding up her hand.

“Shh.” she said. “Let’s listen.” They stood in a cluster, listening to the faint sound of the waves of the river lapping against the dock. It was quiet. Ciri opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by the thump of a car door. They heard the sound of tires against gravel, and Yen began to walk quickly down the thin path between the blocks. Geralt and Ciri hurried after her. They arrived at the crossroads between the road and the path they were walking down just as a car drove past. Yen shoved her companions behind the warehouse, and they stayed pressed against the wall for a moment, listening for the sound of the car returning. 

“I don’t think they saw us.” Geralt whispered after a few minutes had passed. “Did you see where they were coming from?” 

“It’s that warehouse.” Yen pointed to the one closest to the river. “I’m sure of it. I don’t know why a car would be at one of these for any normal reasons.” She led the way towards the building. There was a small door at the back, presumably for service purposes. It was locked.

“Fuck.” Geralt muttered.

“Don’t lose hope just yet.” Yen said. “You forget about my sordid past.” She reached into a pocket of her leather jacket and pulled out a bobby pin. Ciri stared as Yen unbent the wire and began to carefully twist it around in the lock of the door. “Don’t ask why I know how to do this, Ciri.” she said, giving one final twist. The door clicked, and Yen pulled it open.

The warehouse was pitch black. Geralt was glad he had kept the free keychain flashlight from the pride festival. Its light was weak, but it was enough to get an impression of where to walk. Crates stretched up to the ceiling. They were all stamped with a large red label that read, “IMPOUNDED”.

“Does that mean all of these crates are filled with illegal things?” Ciri whispered, putting her hand back in Geralt’s.

“Yes, or that they didn’t pay import duties.” Yen said. She turned on her phone’s flashlight, which was much more powerful than Geralt’s small light. 

“Jaskier?” Geralt called into the darkness. They all held their breaths, listening. Nothing.

“What if he’s not here?” Yen murmured as they continued down the rows. “What if they took him somewhere else?” Geralt didn’t want to think about that. Suddenly, Ciri pulled on his arm.

“I heard something in there.” she said, pointing with her staff down a dark corridor between two stacks of crates. They stood frozen, straining their ears. Geralt caught the faintest whisper of a strangled groan. 

“Stay here.” he said, and turned his tiny flashlight on, pulling his nunchucks out with his other hand. His light lit up barely two inches in front of him, but it was enough. The noise Ciri had heard grew louder. It sounded like someone trying to scream through a mouthful of pillow, or cloth. It had to be Jaskier. He quickened his pace, keeping his ears peeled for any sounds behind him. The corridor was long, and he was almost afraid that he was running too far away from Yen and Ciri. He was considering giving up and turning around when his foot ran into something soft. There was a frightened and muffled squeak, and Geralt froze, turning his flashlight down to see what he had kicked. Jaskier had been bundled against the wall of the warehouse. His ankles and wrists had been bound tightly with ropes, and he was gagged and blindfolded. Geralt had kicked his calf.

“Jaskier.” he breathed, shoving his nunchucks back into their pocket and dropping to the ground. “Jaskier, it’s me. It’s Geralt.” Jaskier made another noise, and Geralt began to work at the knot of his gag. It was tight. “Yen! Yen, I need your knife!” he yelled down the hallway, then carefully moved Jaskier into a more comfortable position. Jaskier’s fingers danced frantically against his thigh. Geralt cursed quietly, wishing he hadn’t decided to clip his fingernails the previous day, and continued to tug uselessly at the knot. Yen and her bright light appeared out of the darkness, Ciri trailing behind her. Geralt pulled the offered knife from her hand and sliced the knots off of the cloth imprisoning Jaskier. 

“Ahhh,  _ fucking cock _ .” Jaskier groaned. Yen bent to cut his ankles free, and Geralt hacked his way through the rope on his wrists.

“Are you ok?” Geralt asked, cradling his boyfriend’s face in his hands and examining it. In the light of Yen’s phone, he could see that someone had hit Jaskier in the mouth. 

“Course I’m not fucking ok, I’ve been tied up in a goddamn warehouse or whatever the fuck this is for hours upon hours.” Jaskier muttered, massaging one of his hands and grimacing. Geralt took them into his own and began rubbing them as gently as he could, and Jaskier dropped his head onto Geralt’s shoulder. “The worst they did was hit me in the mouth and kick my ribs a little.” he said. “I’ll live.”

“We should get going.” Yen said, glancing over her shoulder. “I don’t know when that car is coming back, or if they were the only people there.” Geralt kissed Jaskier on the forehead and pulled him to his feet. 

“Are you going to be fine to walk?” Geralt asked as Jaskier clutched at his arm, letting out a quiet squeak.

“I think so.” he said. “My feet are just...not quite awake yet.”

“I’ll carry you.” Geralt hefted Jaskier onto his back, being careful to not jostle any bruised ribs, and locked his arms under Jaskier’s thighs. Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt’s shoulders and tucked his face into his shoulder. 

“Are you going to be able to fight like that?” Yen asked. “You’re the only one of us who can really do any damage.”

“Do you want to carry Jask?” Geralt asked. “We’ll be fine. I can still kick, and run.” Yen led the way back into the main walkway between the crates, her pace much quicker than it had been. It was hard to tell how close they were to the exit. Everything in the warehouse looked exactly the same, and the darkness didn’t help. They had been walking for a good minute when all the lights in the building came on in a horrible flash. Geralt shut his eyes against the brightness.

“Fuck.” Jaskier whispered in his ear, tightening his hold. There was a commotion somewhere behind them. Geralt opened his eyes slowly. Ciri had dropped into a fighting stance, and Yen had a knife in one hand and her tiny bottle of pepper spray in the other. 

“Yennefer de Vengerberg. I was not expecting to see you here.” a woman’s voice echoed across the warehouse, and Geralt turned to see the woman who had shot Jaskier striding towards them. She had a bandage on the back of her head where it had hit the concrete when he had swept her, but she seemed otherwise unscathed by their encounter. She pulled a pistol out of her pocket as casually as if it were her phone. “And Geralt Riviiowski. I thought we wouldn’t have to worry about you for a while, but it seems that some of us don’t know how to keep quiet when they’re being kidnapped.” Ciri made as if to lunge at their new opponent, but Geralt dropped one of his hands and grabbed her shoulder. The woman laughed.

“I see you’ve finally sunk to kidnapping civilians, Fringilla.” Yen said, stepping forward and holding her pepper spray at the ready. “Is that what you learned in Aretuza? I thought we were taught how to soften up kings and how to pull the strings, not how to shoot and lie and mug people in the night. It’s a shame, really it is.”

“Who are you to talk?” Fringilla Vigo said, smiling. “You spent a decade doing shit-all in Aedirn and then you quit to what, run a witch shop?”

“It wasn’t the right place for me.” Yen said. “I am not ashamed of where my career took me.”

“You know, I was supposed to have that post before you snatched it from me.” Vigo said, running her thumb over the back of her pistol and toying with the safety. “It turns out that was a good thing. I wouldn’t have been happy in that stupid little backwater of a country. In Nilfgaard I have real power.”

“Real power?” Jaskier scoffed. “Is mugging people and chasing after kids real power? What kind of a life do you people lead?”

“Shut your mouth.” Vigo snarled. “I shot you once, I can shoot again. Even if I have to go through that slab of a man you drag around.” Ciri strained against Geralt’s hand, but Yen put out one of her hands and grabbed Ciri’s arm. “And you brought the precious little princess. How sweet. Pankratz told us he didn’t know where she was, but I guess they didn’t teach lying well enough in poet class.” 

“What the  _ fuck _ do you want with me?” Ciri screamed abruptly. “Why can’t you just  _ leave me alone _ ?” She broke free of Yen and Geralt’s holds and went sprinting towards Vigo. Geralt yelled, dropped Jaskier as Gently as he could, and dove after her. Vigo was too surprised to get a shot off and was slammed in the sternum by Ciri’s hardwood staff. She grunted, letting out a puff of air, and Geralt grabbed her gun and threw it into the shadows of the crates. There was the sound of pounding feet, and a group of men in black came running down the corridor. They were all armed. 

“Stop!” Geralt wrapped his arm around Vigo’s throat and pulled his nunchucks out, brandishing them. Vigo pulled at his arm, but she was clearly not trained in self defense. “If you come any closer, I’ll smash your precious leader’s skull in with these.” The men all hesitated.

“Ignore him, he’s bluffing.” Vigo wheezed. “Shoot them all.” Geralt tightened his hold on her throat, and she hit him in the stomach to no avail. 

“If you let us go, I will free her.” Geralt said. “I will leave her unharmed, and you will stop trying to get at Ciri. She’s not yours to take.”

“We have our orders from the emperor.” one of the men said. He looked more like a vampire than Geralt had ever looked, with slicked-back black hair and a black turtleneck that accented just how pale he was. “Those are worth more to me than the threats of a man with nothing but a few bits of wood on a chain to…” He crumpled abruptly to the ground, revealing Ciri holding her staff over him in triumph. The remaining men turned their guns on her.

“Stop!” Vigo shouted hoarsely. “Emhyr wants her alive!” Yen hurried behind the men and grabbed Ciri, putting her arms around her. 

“You lay a finger on her, and I’ll kill all of you.” she said, glaring at the men nearest to her. They stood at an impasse, frozen like a display in a museum exhibit about the dangers of meddling in international politics. At least five minutes had gone by before Geralt realized with a jolt that Jaskier was nowhere to be seen. Even worse, he had no idea when the last time he had seen him was. Vigo had the same realization.

“Where the fuck did that goddamn twink go?” she yelled. Two of the men turned around almost comically, as if Jaskier were hiding behind them with a heavy object raised above his head. “Go find him, you useless bastards!” Vigo added, and the men who had moved jogged off into the warehouse. 

“If they hurt him I’m going to–” Geralt began, but was cut off by the sudden sound of gunfire. Ciri shrieked, and Geralt threw Vigo into a pile of crates and began to sprint towards the sound. The men keeping their guns trained on Yen and Ciri turned and fired after him, and he dove to the ground, bashing the bruised side of his face into the ground. There was another burst of firing, and the sound of staticy conversation. Geralt pushed himself into the corridor and peered around the boxes. A group of people in what looked like police riot gear were filling the hall, guns trained on the men in black. 

“Jaskier, you clever bastard.” Geralt muttered. He was going to...hmm, maybe now was not a good time to think about the things he  _ really _ wanted to do with Jaskier after everything was over. The police were ordering everyone to get on the ground, and he carefully shoved his nunchucks in his pocket and crawled out from behind the boxes. 

“He’s with us.” Jaskier came hurrying from somewhere down the warehouse and pulled Geralt to his feet and away from the butt of the gun an officer was attempting to prod Geralt towards the Nilfgaard men with. “Not them. He’s her dad.” The officer nodded, and Jaskier pulled Geralt through the huddle of men in black to where Ciri and Yen were standing, both looking alarmed. 

Geralt ignored Yen’s vain mutter of, “Geralt, I am not sweet, don’t ruin my image,” and pulled them all into his arms, holding on as tight as he could. His family was safe. That was all that mattered right now.

\------

“What a day.” Jaskier groaned, burying his face in Geralt’s shoulder and tracing his fingers in a vague line over the small of his back and down the curve of his ass. “Or night? I don’t know how time works anymore.” It was, in fact, nearly three in the morning. 

They had been at the police station for hours, giving the same story to different detectives and police chiefs and reporters. The people who had kidnapped them were from Nilfgaard. They didn’t know why the people from Nilfgaard were going after them. Yes, Ciri was Jaskier and Geralt’s daughter. They could pull up the paperwork if they liked. No, they didn’t think she was the princess of Cintra. Did they think their little Fiona, a poor little orphan from Redania, could be the  _ princess _ of  _ Cintra? _ The detectives had harped on this point so often, until one of them had accused Geralt of lying because he was pointedly studying a poster of a cartoon dog behind his head and Jaskier had gone off on him.  _ Haven’t you ever fucking talked to an autistic person before, you asshole, also it’s goddamn two in the morning how do you expect any of us to focus on your face? We’re not lying, why the  _ fuck _ would we lie _ ? That had gotten the detective to lay off. It had also gotten Jaskier a few minutes in what Yen teasingly referred to as the “interview time-out room”, which was really just the waiting room of the station. It featured a very cold water cooler and lots of gossip magazines.

Finally, after all this, when Ciri had fallen asleep in Yen’s lap and Geralt had completely shut down and stopped giving comprehensible answers, the police had let them go. They had wandered back to the car in a haze, and Ciri had fallen asleep again and only woken up when she was being tucked into bed. Jaskier had been thinking of how he desperately wanted to get back to the apartment so he could kiss Geralt as deeply and passionately as he wanted without a whole station of police officers staring at them, but by the time they had made it back to the bedroom, all he had wanted to do was go to sleep. He was trying his best to do so at that moment, despite how everything pointed to the contrary. In Jaskier’s defense, it was hard to resist Geralt’s toned kung fu ass.

“Hmm.” Geralt was practically asleep, so engaging him in conversation was pointless. That wasn’t going to stop Jaskier, though.

“D’you think this’ll start a war with Nilfgaard?” he asked, wandering his way back up Geralt’s back and tangling his fingers in his hair. 

“Probably.” Geralt mumbled. “Kings don’t like it when people wander into their territory.”

“As long as it doesn’t come near the city.” 

“They’ll probably take it across the Yaruga, straight to Nilfgaard.” Geralt mused. “Now, stop thinking about military strategy and go to sleep.”

“Hmmph.” Jaskier snuggled closer, and Geralt began rubbing his back. “G’night, Geralt. I love you.” 

“I love you too, Jask.” Geralt kissed him on the top of the head, and Jaskier hummed softly. Everything had been turned upside down that day, but at least he was falling asleep in his love’s arms.


	13. Epilogue: How unreasonably in love I am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We end as any good story must end: softly and gayly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the last chapter! Wow! This final chapter title is from "Fair".  
> And now it's time to dole out thank yous. First and foremost: to you! Thank you for reading and sticking with me through my very first Witcher fanfic. Especially thank you to everyone who's left a comment, and especially especially to those people who commented on almost every chapter! I see you and I love you. Also thank you to my betas: Artie, Chloe, and Mabel. Despite their frequent crimes and baffling comments, I appreciate them lots!! Special shout out to the people who made really random parts of this fic possible, including but not limited to all my kung fu instructors, middle school teachers everywhere, and especially to Ms. Fraker and Mrs. Giggles for teaching me of the wonders of poetry. Stay tuned for more fics coming up soon! Thank you again for reading! I love you <3

It was a perfect day for a renaissance faire. Leaves fluttered down onto the pounded dirt paths that wove between the stalls and crunched delightfully under boots. Ciri had been jumping into the piles of leaves surrounding the plant beds and cackling in childish glee. As usually happened, the Riviiowski-Pankratz-de Vengerberg clan was dressed like they were going to three separate events within the same faire. Jaskier was marching about in what he would tell anyone who listened was the “sluttiest historically accurate outfit he could find”, which sounded worse than it really was. He had been forced by the crisp fall wind to button up his light blue doublet, but he had managed to keep the collar open. Ciri was stomping about in a pair of knee-high leather boots that Yen had bought her as an early birthday present, and the combination of her white shirt with billowing sleeves and the thick leather belt she had borrowed from Yen, she looked a lot like a lost pirate child searching for gold to plunder. Geralt was dressed simply in a black shirt with the laces undone and the scuffed black boots he had been wearing to faires for time untold. The outfit had been given a pop of color by the addition of Jaskier’s hat, which was purple and floppy and sported a big white feather. Ciri had stolen it early in the day, and it had been passed back and forth around their family since. Jaskier and Ciri had come to an agreement that Geralt deserved it, and so he had been walking around in it since lunchtime, catching admiring and amused glances from passersby.  
“Geralt! Geralt, let’s go look at the blacksmith’s! Geralt, you promised I could look at the swords!” Ciri exclaimed, pointing excitedly at the stall.  
“I suppose I did.” Geralt sighed, and he and Jaskier followed her across the path to the shop. The blacksmith was a tall woman with arm muscles that were approximately the size of one of Jaskier’s thighs. She had worked the faire for longer than Jaskier had, and she was widely considered amongst the artists and staff to be the most powerful person in the world.  
“Hello, hello.” she called over the huffing of her bellows. “I was wondering when you three would come traipsing by. Yen mentioned you’d acquired a child.”  
“Hello yourself, Mills.” Jaskier said. “How’s the forging?” Geralt and Ciri had been drawn away from conversing by the glass case of beautifully worked daggers.  
“Oh, just fine.” Mills said, pulling the metal she was working and shoving it into cold water. Steam rose up and enveloped her. “I heard your morning performance was a hit.”  
“Oh, stop, you’re flattering me.” Jaskier said, smiling. He had been expecting the lyric change in the song formerly known as “Toss a Coin to My Roommate” to be accepted positively, but he had not been expecting the utter pandemonium that the revelation that the titular man was now Jaskier’s boyfriend had caused. Of all the standing ovations Jaskier had ever gotten, that was probably his favorite. He glanced over at Geralt, who was describing the merits of one of the weapons to Ciri with excitement and who also had not noticed that his stolen hat was slipping down over his eyes. “Geralt, my love, my life, don’t let my precious hat fall into the terrible dirt.” he called. Geralt pushed the hat back up without stopping his narration.  
“It suits him.” Mills commented, beginning to pound the metal. Jaskier had always been impressed by her ability to talk to people while she worked. “I’ve always said, Geralt needs more color in his outfits.”  
“I thought I would find you three here.” Yen had wandered over from her own booth. “Sabrina came back from her lunch break, so I can come walk around with you now.” She was wearing a long black dress with geometric flowers cut out of it to reveal the white of her slip.  
“Yen, look at these daggers!” Ciri exclaimed, dragging her over to look at the weapons. “Geralt says we can’t afford them right now but maybe next year.” Jaskier smiled quietly to himself. Geralt had slipped away during lunch to “take care of business”, and Jaskier was fairly certain that business had involved sneakily buying birthday gifts and hiding them in his backpack.  
“The tournament is starting soon, isn’t it?” Yen asked Mills. Mills glanced up at the clock in her stall and nodded.  
“Twenty minutes, I think.” she said. “You’d best hurry along now, or you won’t be able to get front row seats.”  
“I want to see people get knocked off of their horses up close and personal.” Ciri informed the adults, a terrifying gleam coming into her eye.  
“I’m sure you do, honey.” Mills said, smiling indulgently. Ciri jogged off into the crowd, and her parents waved goodbye to Mills and trailed after her. Geralt took Jaskier’s hand, and a cluster of teenagers dressed up as tieflings cheered.  
“If I’d known dating would make me this popular, I would have gotten over myself sooner.” Jaskier commented, reaching up to adjust the hat.  
“Is this when I learn you’re only dating me for...what is it that Ciri says all the time? Clout?” Geralt asked, grinning. Jaskier bumped him with his shoulder, and the faint sound of the teenagers cheering again carried over the heads of the crowd. Ciri and Yen were admiring a stall of leather clothes, and next to them a boy a few years older than Ciri was marching around informing the public of the evil wizard who had captured the fair princess. It was nice to be here in this world for a little while, where the greatest concern was not the war that had broken out on the other side of the Yaruga, or the rumors that the Emperor Emhyr was in fact about to marry Calanthe’s granddaughter–a bold claim indeed, Jaskier thought, watching Ciri trying on a pair of leather bracers and cooing with delight over how they matched her outfit. The tiefling teenagers walked past them into the leather stall and began chattering amongst themselves about how bitchin’ the leather outfits on sale were.  
“Geralt! Jaskier! Look!” Ciri hurried and displayed her bracers, grinning. “Yen says since they match my boots they count as part of my birthday present. Can I wear them to class on Wednesday?”  
“I’m not sure they count as part of your uniform.” Geralt said, and Ciri sighed. “I have ancient standards to maintain.” he protested, spreading his hands in a gesture of apology.  
“Jaskier, have you been to see my wife yet?” Mills’ wife Tasha called around the wall of her dress shop. “She’s been dying to confirm the rumors.”  
“Rumors? It’s all true.” Jaskier said. “I’m astonished my extremely explicit set of love songs has been transformed to rumors and whispers.” Tasha laughed.  
“I’m looking forward to hearing your set when I’m on break next week.” she said. “Mills was all over it. Geralt, you’ve found yourself a talented man. If I’m not invited to your wedding, I’ll be very upset.”  
“Are you getting married?” Yen had returned with a bag in her arms. “Why wasn’t I the first to hear?”  
“We’re not getting married.” Geralt sputtered.  
“Not yet anyway.” Jaskier gave him a sultry look and received a wallop with his own hat. “Abuse! Jail! Jail for boyfriend! Jail for boyfriend for one thousand years!” he wailed, smacking Geralt back. They began to chase each other around the small area in front of Tasha’s booth. The teenagers in the leather shop watched and tittered.  
“How childish my dads are.” Ciri observed loftily. “That they would sink so low as to slapping each other with hats. Shameful.” Yen and Tasha both laughed.  
“You haven’t been around them long enough.” Yen said. “You’ll see.” Geralt picked Jaskier up and slung him over his shoulder.  
“Yennefer, I am being terribly used.” Jaskier said, resigning himself to his fate. “First he stole my hat, and now he is carrying me like I am just a sack of potatoes. How can you stand there and laugh at me?”  
“I don’t know how to help you.” Yen said, smiling and shaking her head. Geralt flipped Jaskier back down onto his feet. “Are we ready to go to the tournament now?”  
“Yes!” Ciri cheered. She and Yen began to walk towards the arena.  
“We certainly have been giving those teenagers a show.” Jaskier observed, unbuttoning his doublet again. The wind had died down, and it was warm enough for him to return to his original outfit arrangement.  
“Shall we give them a finale?” Geralt asked, a mischievous light coming into his eyes.  
“Oh, Geralt, you are a tease.” Jaskier said.  
“Hmm.” Geralt caught him around the waist and dipped him into a long, deep, passionate kiss. The teenagers screamed with cheers, and Jaskier suppressed a laugh. He tangled his fingers in Geralt’s hair and kissed him back, just as hard and every bit as passionately. 

Finis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is my greatest achievement yet to have the last bit of dialogue in this fic be "hmm." I will never again achieve such great things


End file.
